What Becomes of Us
by devonshire64
Summary: A new hunt brings to light the brothers' buried fears and asks the question. Can we really survive what we are raised to be?
1. Chapter 1

_hello everyone, me again :) welcome to my new story. this one follows the events of Shadow Stalker and By the Wayside, and falls third in the series. you dont have to read the first two stories to understand this, as the basic info will be recapped throughout, but i do recommend reading them anyway. _

_i am sorry By the Wayside seemed a bit confusing with the different story lines, i didnt really lose control because it was outlined that way, my novel idea just didnt work out. but, the story served its purpose in the series. :) and i liked it. lol._

**_warning: this story is dark. darker then Shadow Stalker. it is listed as horror for good reason and it may be a little hard for some people. if you are sqimish or have problems with certain ideas (ie: human sacrifice) you may want to turn away. you have been warned. _**

_that said, let me know what you think of this little teaser chapter. _

D: i dont own anything pertaining to supernatural, i'm just in it for the fun.

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 1

It had been three weeks, three long and grueling weeks of silent shrugs and half hearted comments. Everything about their lives had changed, the world having shifted so suddenly that it sent both brothers falling to the hard ground below. It was like being lost in a waste land, neither hunter knowing what to do, how to fix everything that had gone so terribly wrong. Everything about them had changed, their lives lost somewhere in the hunt, their souls hanging in the balance.

Whoever knew things could be so hard, get so complicated. Dean wondered that over and over again, the thoughts consuming him, challenging him, driving him mad with each breath he took, each beat of his aching heart. He had failed as both a hunter and a brother, failed at everything he was supposed to be. And now, sitting silently beside his now stoic little brother, he wondered what exactly he was supposed to do, who exactly he was supposed to be.

He wasn't Dean Winchester anymore, that much he knew for sure. Dean Winchester protected his little brother, Dean Winchester hunted evil, triumphed over the darkness. He, on the other hand, sat beside his brother for five months, somehow missing the fact that he was possessed. And then he had lost him, his baby brother putting his own life in danger to save him. It wasn't right, it wasn't the way life was supposed to be, and it was all his fault.

Sam sat as still as death, his body not even twitching as he leaned his head against the cool glass of the passenger window, his deep brown eyes staring out over the empty landscape around him. He felt different, off, empty. There was no other way he could describe it, he just knew, deep in his bones, that he was changed, used. He had never really thought about the after effects of possession, about what having your body invaded by a demon could do. But now, ever since the Asura, he found himself wishing that he had taken better notice of those they had exorcised in the past.

He was always so cold, always so distant, his mind running a mile a minute, senses far away from the world around him. It was almost as though apart of him was now permanently locked away in his mind, as though a piece of his soul was diseased, contaminated, lost to him forever. And it was awful. He wanted so much to tell Dean, to ask him for help, confined in him his fears, but that bridge had burned somewhere along the road, and the river of emotions beneath was too much for either brother to cross. Dean had become an island, protected my razor sharp reefs, and Sam was a sailor lost in an angry sea. And neither one could protect themselves against the coming storms.

They had been raised to be hunters, raised to rid the world of the supernatural. But, somewhere along the way they had become lost, unguided, broken. Sam was tied to the yellow eyed demon and Dean had escaped the clutches of death itself. They were raised to fight the darkness, not become apart of it. They had made deals with a demon and let their secret lives be announced to a very eager public. All in all, they had lost their way, and both knew that it would take nothing short of a miracle for them to be found again.

And their father, what would their father think. He had been calling them nonstop, leaving message after message on both his sons' cell phones but neither brother answered, neither one even acknowledged the fact that their phones were ringing. They had lost more then just the battle, they had lost themselves, lost their purposes, their reasons for being, and they knew that their father would not accept that. He had raised them better, raised them smarter, and he would be disgraced to see what they had become.

They were the shells of the men they had been, the hollow reminders of what life had taken away, what reality, fate and destiny had robbed them off. They were supposed to be so much more, supposed to be the strong and brave Winchester brothers, the best hunters around, top of the field. But now, now they were nothing more then broken children, nothing more then the remains left behind after a fire twenty five years past.

Everything had become so much bigger then them, the bad guys so much stronger, the consequences so much costlier, and they were reaching their end, both brothers so weary, so tired that a light breeze would blow them away. They were the heroes who's story had ended.

"You hungry?" Dean asked, his voice horse and tired, eyes never leaving the road ahead. It had become something of a dance, their conversations only long enough to get the point across, words only spoken when there was no other alternative. Gone was the banter, gone were the pranks, gone was so much of what made them real. And, if asked, neither one would be able to say where their souls went. They just seemed to get lost, disoriented, left fallen by the wayside.

"Sure." Sam's voice was cold, but there was nothing he could do to change it, the shadows that had settled upon him since the possession wouldn't let his words come out clearly, wouldn't let his mind focus fully. It was like losing to a cancer, everything about him fading away a little more each day. He was dying, and he didn't know why, or how to stop it.

And his depressed soul did not want to ask anyone for help, a part of him feeling that his suffering was justified, a price paid to his wonderful mother and beautiful girlfriend. A price paid to his loyal brother, and his wayward father. Not one of them had asked for this, not one of them had to live this life, it was all his doing, and so, he felt the pain was justified. After all, it was all he had left to give.

Dean pulled off the dusty highway about twenty minutes later, bringing the impala to a stop in an even dustier parking lot. They were in the middle of nowhere, but, to Dean, that was everywhere these days, so it really was rather fitting. He couldn't help but notice how freakishly still his brother had become, or how frighteningly hollow his once bright eyes had grown. He wanted to reach out for him, wanted to help him, wanted to save him. But how can you catch someone while you yourself are falling? He wanted and needed to save Sam, but he just couldn't do it without someone saving him first.

He would never say it aloud but the older Winchester was drowning, being pulled down deeper and deeper by the ever darkening world around him. Who was it that was supposed to save the hero? Who was it that was supposed to be there for the champion, rescue those who rescued others? Those were the questions Dean found himself asking over and over again, his tired mind wondering just who in this tumultuous world had the power to save him.

They made there way to a back booth in silence, sparing only enough words to order their meals before both men were again lost to their inner demons, the walls built so high around them that not even a giant could scale them. They were falling, fading, sinking, and they needed someone to save them.

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Megan Marshal left the library later then she had expected to, time slipping by her as the deadline for her research paper loomed ever nearer. Whoever thought college was all fun and games was sadly mistaken, psychology 101 was a bitch. But thankfully, Megan thought, a bitch she would soon be done with. Spring break was a mere two weeks away, and things were beginning to look up for the struggling freshman.

She turned quickly, her dark eyes scanning the empty ally, the noises she had just heard echoing through her frightened mind. Footsteps, she could have sworn she had heard footsteps approaching slowly from behind. But no, her mind must be playing tricks on her, there was no one behind her and no place for them to have gone so fast.

"Keep it together, Megan." She reprimanded herself in a low, unsteady voice, feet still locked unmoving to the cold pavement beneath her. It was all her imagination it had to be. Damn Trevor, she thought bitterly as she began to walk again, still casting nervous glances over her shoulder. He had been telling her stories all night, telling tall tales about the weird girl that always sat in the back of the library, almost invisible except for her eyes.

Melinda was her name, yeah, Mad Mellie is what he had called her. Said she watched her family being murdered and that's why her eyes bugged out the way they did. Stupid boys with their stupid stories. It was very mean of him, she thought, very low to make jokes about a shy and fairly ugly girl. Maybe if people were nicer she wouldn't come off as such a freak.

Megan froze again, the light laughter echoing behind her stole her breath away, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end as a cold breeze whispered down her spine. Someone was behind her, there was no doubt about it, but she couldn't figure out where they had come from. The alley was empty, there had been no place for a human to hide.

"Who's there?" She questioned weakly, still too scared to turn around, too terrified to face her attacker.

The faint voice snickered again. "That awful boy calls me Mad Mellie."

"Look, I'm sorry. He's a jerk, you shouldn't listen to what he says." Megan answered, relaxing slightly as she turned around, ready to make peace with the shy girl standing behind her.

She was met by large bulging eyes and a sadistically twisted smile, the girl behind her staring at her as though she were made of gold, or worst yet, a starving man's next meal. The smile grew wider still across her taunt gray face as Megan's terror grew. Her blue irises slowly began to float upward as the whites if her eyes took over, the bulging orbs glowing in the dark night, deep crimson blood dripping freely from her smiling mouth.

And the silent night was suddenly broken my Megan's blood curdling scream.


	2. Chapter 2

_i hope i didnt scare anyone away with the warning :( thank you again to everyone that reviewed, i hope you all enjoy this chapter. _

D: still dont own anything.

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 2

John Winchester threw the cell phone on the old motel room bed in blind frustration. It had been nearly two months since he had heard anything about his boys, nearly two months since his dwindling list of contacts had been able to find them. It had been two months too long.

Ever since he had lost his boys in Shadow Pine forest any time without them was too long, too quiet, too empty. He knew it was all his doing, all a result of his misguided attempts at keeping them safe, keeping them from blinding each other, but that still didn't make the pain any less real, any less devastating. They were his children, all he had left in the world, and he couldn't shake the fear that he was about to lose them, that they were about to fall right off the face of this earth.

He scrubbed his tired face in frustration before he retrieved his phone, this time dialing Dean's number, though he knew he would get no response. Neither had answered him, neither had even so much as sent a text, some form of acknowledgment that they had received his messages, that they even knew how frantically he was trying to reach them. Other hunters had even gone so far as to suggest that he started checking morgues, or the areas the boys had last been seen, to 'put their bodies to rest.' But John had soundly, furiously refused. His boys were alive, they just had to be.

He was sure that, had his boys died, the world itself would have stopped spinning, that all life on the planet would grind to a halt with the loss of his children. And if it didn't, then it should. He couldn't and wouldn't face the fact that his sons might be gone, that they may have lost their lives in some forgotten forest, left this world nameless. They were his sons, his boys, his children, and life just wouldn't be that cruel. He sighed again when the phone clicked over to Dean's voice mail.

"Dean, it's me. Please son, answer your phone. I need to know that you and your brother are all right. Please, Dean, just call me back." He closed the phone slowly as he sat down at the table, staring off into the empty space of the lonely motel room.

Everything that had happened to his small family over the last two years was suddenly rushing over him like a tidal wave, every emotion, every nightmare flowed through him in one unstoppable burst. He thought they could win, thought that killing the Demon would put an end to all their suffering. He had been blind, really, ignoring everything he had seen and learned over the past twenty four years. Dean and Sam were older now, and if the past few years were any indication, they were beyond his power to protect.

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The middle aged woman's eyes darted open in panic, her body trembling as the fear and anxiety washed over her, threatened to drown her. It was a power she had never felt before, a strength and awakening that had been so powerful, so potent that it sliced through her consciousness like a knife. She could feel it lingering all around her, the force of it pressing in on her, almost as though she could feel the essence of the being that had emitted it standing there next to her, the tall and lean frame waiting just on the other side of the darkened room's shadows.

With a shaky breath she pushed herself up off the bed and made her way to the phone, her hands trembling as she dialed the number, her mind racing while she waited for an answer. And the abrupt, panicked voice that met her ears did little to quell the fear that was growing inside her, the man's desperate voice like a nail in her heart.

"John Winchester, we need to talk."

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Sam laid wide awake on the musty motel bed, his mind racing, eyes staring up empty at the ceiling. It was the same every night, his mind refusing to let sleep claim him, refusing to let his tired body rest. It wasn't like before, wasn't like being awoken by nightmares, being afraid to sleep, no, this was something different, something changed inside of him. He couldn't sleep anymore, plain and simple.

Every night he went through the motions, laid still and silent, eyes closed, while he waited for his brother to fall asleep, waited for Dean's worried mind to drift off into nothingness. He knew he was worried, knew he cared, but there was nothing the younger Winchester could do about it. The Asura had left him different, less human in a way, and sleep was just one of the many casualties of their most recent battle.

And the worst part of all is that Sam knew Dean blamed himself, even though it wasn't his fault, even though there was nothing he could have done to stop it. Hell, Sam wasn't even upset about the Tulpa anymore. The fear it had left in him had been slowly waning over the last few weeks to the point where it had finally become manageable, the notion that he may be as evil as his counterpart falling deep down with the rest of his buried dread. But that still didn't change the fact that Dean felt responsible, that his older brother criticized himself for everything that had happened.

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"I think I may have something." Sam spoke quietly as his brother made his way out of the small bathroom, the sleepless night leaving its mark on the young hunter. Sam was visibly thinner, his skin noticeably paler, and it tore away at every wall Dean had managed to build around himself, undermined everything his life had become.

He was supposed to protect Sammy, supposed to keep him happy, keep him safe. But now, now he was forced to watch him slowly slip away, his inner demons too much for the older Winchester to handle, too strong for the skilled hunter to fight. His little brother was like an echo of what he had been, his voice weak and quiet, eyes sunken and dull. He was losing, they were losing, and Dean didn't know how to stop it. Who would have thought it could be so hard to survive possession.

Dean could see what the demon had stolen from his little brother, how much strength, how much of his actual soul had been lost in his five month battle. It was like the Asura had literally taken a bite out of the physic, leaving so little behind that Dean was afraid he would never be able to help him rebuild, that Sammy would always be half of what he once was.

"Something what?"

"A hunt." He spoke quietly, his brown eyes still glued to the computer screen, shoulders slumped as he leaned over the keyboard. They hadn't hunted since they destroyed the Asura, since Sam had shot the tulpa Sam dead. Everything had just seemed so arbitrary after that, the demon bringing to light all of the brothers' fears, all of their weaknesses. It had followed them and used them, knowing exactly how they would react to the situation, knowing exactly what they would chose. It was a better hunter, and they had nearly lost their lives because of it. And that wasn't the first time.

They were physically and mentally tired, their twenty something year old bodies aged far more then they should have been, Dean's knee so badly injured that it would never be right again. And while both men were still physically able to fight, still in better shape most people, they just couldn't bring themselves to face evil again, not after such a powerful darkness had nearly succeeded in taking them. And so, instead they had been driving aimlessly around the country, following every lonely road they had decided to turn down, like a broken compass, forever spinning, forever lost.

"Sam."

"Dean, please, I need to hunt something or I'm gonna go crazy."

"Never thought I'd hear those words come out of your mouth."

"What would you rather do, hunt something, or wallow around in self pity?"

"I wasn't wallowing."

"We're screwed up, Dean, maybe too screwed up to ever be ok. But, as long as we're still breathing, we can still stop what's happened to us from happening to other people."

"So." Dean started after a short silence, his brother's words digging deep into her heart, settling forever in his soul. They were screwed up, there was no way he could deny that, but to hear Sam say it, to hear his little brother state it so blatantly, so unemotionally, made it all frighteningly real, and terrifyingly permanent. They were screwed up, and he didn't know how to fix it. "What's this hunt of yours?"

"Ok, a university student, Megan Marshal went missing about a week ago. No sign of a struggle, nothing left behind, she just vanished into thin air."

"So, people go missing all the time."

"Yeah, well, over the past twenty years there have been twenty disappearances, both men and woman. All were last seen in or around the school's library, all late at night. And get this, from 1978 to 1988 the university was terrorized by a serial killer. All the victims, both men and woman, went missing from areas near the library."

"So, you're thinking angry spirit? Why didn't anyone think anything of the murders, like a copy cat?"

"Well, the guy, Martin Trater was killed in a shoot out with police, his wife was the first person missing and his two daughters were taken to foster homes. They looked into the first few disappearances but nothing ever turned up, there was just no evidence at all. And, none of the bodies have been found. When Martin was still alive, the bodies would turn up."

"Where?"

"Hanging from trees in the local forest. Five would go missing, each two weeks apart, always at the spring equinox, every five year, then they would all be found together, mutilated, blood drained, all hanging at points in a pentagram."

"Kind of like satanic worship gone wrong."

"Yeah, in most rituals the victims are usually similar you know, like all young women, or all young men. But this just seemed random. Police just pegged the guy as crazy."

"Ya think. So, this guy died in '88, then the next victims start going missing in what '93?"

"Yeah, then again in '98, then 2003, and now."

"How many have gone missing?"

"Megan Marshal makes four."

"So, we have two weeks?"

"Six days. She went missing a little over a week ago, and the last person was always found hanging five days after they went missing. So, total, we have about a week and a half."

"Perfect. But, if it's his ghost, why isn't it hanging the bodies?"

"I don't know. But, it's still worth checking into. The bodies in the seventies and eighties all showed signs of torture, this Megan girl, she might still be alive."

"All right, Sam, where to?"

"Ely, Minnesota."

Dean could feel a spark light somewhere deep inside of him, the idea of a hunt rousing his body, awakening his mind. But there was still something off, something different. The tension that had been running through him had not eased, and the fear of loosing his brother only intensified as the two packed their bags. Yes, they were hunting again, but things in their twisted world were still far from normal.

"Are we ok, Sam?" The break in Dean's voice nearly brought Sam to his knees, his older brother needed a reassurance that he couldn't give, needed a strength that neither had the power to offer. He knew that Dean wanted him to tell him that everything in their twisted lives would iron itself out, that they weren't standing at the edge of a battle they wouldn't win. It was gut wrenching, and there was no real way to lessen the blow.

"No, Dean, we're not."

"Will we ever be?"

"I hope so."

_while there is a University in Ely, Minnesota, the rest of the story is fiction. dont be worried, as far as i know that school is very safe :)_

_for anyone wondering about timeline, this story would fall around spring of Season 3. so yes, it would be 2008._


	3. Chapter 3

_hello:) ok, first off i just want to say that i am very, very sorry that it took me so long to update this, but i wanted to finish "something lost" first. that story was occupying my mind, and i didnt leave me room to write anything else. i should be able to update this regurlely, but reviews do help me update quicker. _

_i'm not begging. :) it's just that i like to hear other people's thoughts and ideas, it gives me more ideas for the story. so thank you to everyone that has reviewed, and please keep it up._

_so enjoy, and please, please, let me know what you think._

_PS: because i have been asked so many times i will just put everyone's fears to rest right now. you dont have to worry about deathfics with me (though i personally do like to read them). i will never kill any of the winchester men, i like them all too much:)_

D: this is and always will be just for fun!

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 3

John broke every speed limit there was between him and Kansas, his old friend's cryptic message running over and over again through his mind, his fears growing with each moment that passed, each mile he traveled. He could feel something growing, something brewing, the air around him tasting different, the ground beneath him feeling different. His boys were all he had left in the world, all he had to hold his tattered heart together.

And now, well, now he was losing them to the very things he had spent their lives hunting, the very things he had tried so hard to destroy. Everything that he was, everything that he had, hinged on the lives of his two sons, and now he may be on the brink of losing them. It was all too much to take in, his tired body sinking further and further into the seat, his worn soul retreating back into his broken heart.

They needed to be ok, he needed them to be ok, that was all that mattered to him anymore. He had nearly lost them, been forced to hold Dean while he slowly froze to death, been forced to look into Sam's eyes and tell him that he didn't have all the answers. His boys were broken, and it was all his fault. He suddenly knew how they must have felt all those months ago, the anguish they must have gone through when they were unable to find him, unable to call him. And it was one of the worst feelings of his life.

And, on top of everything else, there was Missouri's phone call. It was the only time in the past two decades that he had heard her voice tremble, the only time he had ever sensed any panic coming off the woman, the only time he had ever noticed fear. And it all had something to do with his children, with Sam. She wouldn't give him specifics, hell, she wouldn't even tell him what she was calling about at first, but he had finally managed to pry the information from her. Something was happening to Sam, and that was all the senior Winchester needed to hear.

He pulled up outside the physic's house, barely waiting for the engine to stop before he leapt from the car and charged up the steps, knocking loudly in the quiet night. At that point he didn't care if he awoke the devil himself with the noise, John needed more then anything to be in that house, learning everything Missouri knew, and searching every shadow for his missing children.

"Would you keep it the hell down." Missouri reprimanded as she pulled open the door, John's angry and worried face greeting her scowl. He was making a wracked and it was going on three in the morning, the last thing they needed now was to draw attention to themselves. She had felt a shift in her very being the night before, a power, an energy ripping through her with such force that she knew things in her life would never be the same again.

But it wasn't just the power the awoke her, no, it was the pain, the sorrow that laced through the entity. It was so overwhelming that she had dissolved into tears moments after ending her call with John. She felt as though her heart had been ripped to pieces, her soul aching with an all encompassing sense of loss. It was so great, so powerful, that is was down right terrifying.

"I don't really have the time to be cordial." John spat as he entered the home, his heart racing, mind over flowing. He had expected his boys to be there, expected them to be ready for the fight, ready to be put back together. But, there was no one there but Missouri, and John just didn't understand. "Where are they?"

"I don't know." She stated evenly as they made their way to the kitchen, a fresh pot of coffee already on the hot plate.

"What do you mean you don't know? I thought they were here. You said you sensed something in Sam."

"I do, I can feel him as though he was right here with us."

"I didn't think you could do that?"

"I usually can't. I usually have to be in close proximity to someone to feel them. But this, John, this is something different."

"Different how?"

"Your boy is powerful, there's no question there, but he's never been this powerful before. I've never felt anything like it."

"How is that possible?"

"I'm not sure."

"Do you feel stuff like this from any of the other kids like him?"

"No. This is something else. It's almost like something was magnifying his powers. Now, whatever that was, it's gone."

"So, he's getting weaker again?"

"That's the thing, he's still growing stronger. It's almost like a wall has come down, and now, what Sam really is, is shinning through."

"What he really is, is my son!"

"I'm sorry, John, I didn't mean in to sound like that. It's just, a power that strong shouldn't be in just one person."

"What are we supposed to do?"

"That's why I called you, I need to know where your boys are."

"I haven't heard from them in two months, and none of my contacts can find them."

"What? They're missing!"

"Yes."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me."

"They're my children, I can take care of them."

"Bull. You have to let those walls of yours down, John Winchester, let someone help you, help your boys."

"Who's supposed to help us? The last person I trusted almost killed, Dean."

"I know you're scared, John, but something's going on here, and I have a bad feeling that we're running out of time. Ever since I called you I've felt Sam's powers grow. If we don't find them soon, if we don't reverse this, there's no telling what could happen to your children."

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The car ride was a silent as ever, both brothers lost in their thoughts, lost in their own worlds, nearly oblivious to the lives that were being lived just beyond the impala's dirty windows. They had never been apart of that world, not really. Everything they had ever known, everything they had ever done was pushed to the shadows, whispered about around dying campfires, thrown to the back of naive minds. People didn't want to know about the darkness, didn't want to think about the evil, and so, there was no place for the Winchesters in their minds, no reason to think about the hunters, when they made themselves believe that there was nothing to be hunted.

Dean watched his younger brother as he leaned against the window, his eyes distant and vacant, skin so pale in was nearly transparent. The bags around his eyes had grown so much that it made him look more zombie then human, more like the monsters they fought then his little brother and it hurt the older man to no end. He was supposed to protect Sam, to keep him safe, not watch him fade away into the darkness at the edge of their lives.

Dean had lost so much to that darkness, suffered so much at the so called 'hands of fate' that he didn't know what to do anymore, didn't know where to turn. Everything had become so hard for him, the hunt he once loved losing its appeal, the brother he cared for more then life itself slipping beyond his reach. And Dean was left alone to deal with it all. He knew his father would be dissapointed, knew that there would be no place in his life for a son that could no longer hunt. And so, Dean did what he always did, he tried to smile, forced himself to breath, listened intently to his own heartbeat. He did anything and everything he could to quell the pain, silence the voices in his head, ward of the overwhelming sense of failure that had taken up residence in every bone of his body. But the darkness was become so dense, the silence so lonely, that he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on, how much more he could take before he drowned in the madness that was his life.

He was brought back to the present when he heard his brother moan beside him, Sam pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes scrunched against a sudden pain. His head was throbbing, ears ringing, as the car thundered down the highway. It was almost as though he could hear thousands of voices calling to him, needed him, begging for help, screaming in agony. Each one wanted something from him, wanted him to save them as they screamed out in their final moments. It was like his visions had grown tenfold, his mind no longer having to deal with seeing nameless strangers die, no, now he had to deal with listening to their voices, living with their pain.

"Sam?" Dean's voice was barely discernible among the ever growing chaos of his mind. But it was something for the younger man to latch onto, a lifeline to help pull him back from the abyss he was sinking into. And, even though he didn't feel like talking, he grabbed onto that strong voice, that over powering presence that was his big brother. He needed Dean to be there, he had always needed Dean to be there, and he wasn't sure he could go on if he had ever lost him. He didn't know what he would do if, one day, he reached out for that lifeline, and found that it wasn't there.

"I'm fine." His voice was weaker then he thought it could ever possibly be, his head feeling like it was going to explode. Oh yes, Sam needed his brother to save him, but he didn't want to add any more wieght to the older man's already stooped shoulders.

"Yeah, sure." Dean mumbled, turning his eyes back to the road, his back ridged and tense. How had their live come to this? "Maybe you should get some sleep?"

"I'm fine. How long?"

"Another few hours at least."

"Ok."

Dean sighed heavily, cracking his neck as he griped the wheel tighter. He needed to get more then two word answers out of his brother. "So." He started again, changing the subject. "Find anything else out about our newest bad guy?"

"Uh, yeah." Sam scrubbed his face, his mind immediately silencing, focus sharpening with the hunt, with his brother's voice. "Apparently, Martin Trater moved here from Wisconsin, where..."

"Let me guess, a series of ritualistic murders happened?"

"Yup, everyone went missing from the parking lot of a Laundromat. Seems like the police were closing in but he just disappeared. Five years later, same murders start again in Ely."

"How long did it go on in Wisconsin?"

"Uh, twenty five years."

"Anywhere before that?"

"Could be, but there're so many similar murders, it's hard to tell."

"Well, that's why you're geek-boy. I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Anything else about his family?"

"Yeah, that I did have some luck with. He was married four times, all later turned up as murder victims."

"Nice guy. How many kids?"

"Just the two, both from his last marriage. At the time of his death they were still pretty young, one called Marci born in '76 and Melinda born in '77. Martin killed their mom one year later."

"So, they lived alone with crazy guy till '88 when they went to foster care."

"Yup, twelve and eleven. Then, get this, their foster homes both burned to the ground within a week of each other. No survivors."

"Well that's quite a coincidence."

"It gets better."

"I can't wait."

"Both houses burned in '93. Same year the murders started up again."

"And the girls died?"

"Well, the bodies couldn't be found, police said that there was just nothing of them left after the fires."

"So, you think maybe the girls' deaths brought back Mr. Angry spirit?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Sam mumbled.

"What?" Dean rolled his eyes. He needed to get to the bottom of his little brother's mood. He knew he wasn't sleeping, knew he was eating right, and he knew it had to stop. Sam was killing himself and Dean would have none of it.

"What, what?"

" 'yeah, I guess so.'" Dean mimicked his brother's half assed answer, his frustration growing with each moment.

"What? I was just saying it. Tiredly." He added angrily, the headache growing again behind his eyes.

"Sure."

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Oh yeah, you've got fine written all over your pasty white face."

"Being a little hypocritical, don't you think?"

"No." Dean answered back sheepishly, his inner voice telling him that Sam was right. "Look, you're the one that brought the hunt to me, man. But, if you don't want to go then just tell me and I'll turn myself right around."

"I didn't say that."

"Yeah well, you sure sounded like you did."

"Look, Dean, just drive."

"Yes sir, Mr. Moody." Dean mumbled as he pushed down harder on the accelerator, his cell phone vibrating in his pocket.

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The room was dark and cold, ice coating the stone walls of the chamber, water dripping ominously from the grimy ceiling. The old and weathered stone table stood like a monolith in the otherwise empty space. The alter was soaked red with old blood, the single white sheet that was placed across it doing little to hide the crimson stains. The carvings around in ran think with the blood of the newest victim, the young girl's small frame trembling with cold and terror. Her mouth was gagged, hand and feet held in place by some invisible force, some other worldly strength.

She whimpered again as the large knife was drug gently over her exposed torso with just enough pressure to leave behind a thin trail of blood. Every inch of her body was sliced in this way, some rivers deep, some shallow, but all shinning brightly against her pale skin. And above her, the two girls smiled; hungry, thirsty smiles. She tried to struggle but her prone body didn't move, her arms and legs so stationary that she wondered if she had someone become paralyzed. The slow, rythmic chanting of the two girls grew stronger with each minute, sending shockwaves through their prisoner's mind, gripping her with a terror she had never known before.

Megan's eyes grew in horror as what looked like wispy smoke filtered in from every corner of the room, almost as though the very ice that had been clinging to the walls had come to life. It flowed against her, slid along the waistband of her jeans, dancing along her body, flitted up through her hair. She cringed against the touch, shivered as it ran up and down her spine, tears leaking down her bloodied face.

The smoke whispered around her once more before rising up and wrapping itself around the other girl, Mellie looking on as though she were watching a god at work, her eyes fixed on the other girl, face so full of praise. Megan wanted to turn away, but found she couldn't, her eyes taking in everything around her, watching as the smoke seeped inside the girl, watching as her eyes rolled back, skin paling, smile growing.

She tried to scream, tried to pull away as the knife was brought up before her, the possessed girl standing it on its point, lightly piercing the skin just above her heart. She opened her mouth as she smiled, a sickly sound radiating from her petite frame.

"For love, for family, for destiny. We do not chose our will, we save our souls."

And with that she plunged the knife into the bound girl's tender skin, her muffled cry the last sound the world would ever hear her make.


	4. Chapter 4

_:) thank you all again for the reviews, i hope you enjoy this chapter. let me know :)_

D: as always, this is just for fun.

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 4

It was late in the day when the boys pulled up outside the crumbling library, the old brick facade cracked and weathered, copper trimming green with time and the elements. The ornate windows glowed warm and dull, slicing through the chilling air, the shadows clinging to the old building like cobwebs, dropping off its corners, shrouding the street below in a ominous, murky darkness. All in all, it was a place that truly showed its age.

The brothers slowly exited the car, both taking in the building before them, starting at it through the falling dusk, searching for any troubling signs. But the library was eerily silent, deceptively calm. At first glance no one would have been able to tell that that building saw the deaths of so many, saw the last moments of over two dozen lives. No, to any normal person it looked like nothing more then a library, nothing more then an old building made of brick. But then again, the Winchesters were far from normal.

Sam could feel them, every life that had been lost, every future that had been cut short. Each and every voice echoed to him, every scream ringing in his ears, assaulting his senses. The horror that was this place could not hide from him, no matter how much he wished it would. The pain behind his eyes was growing with each passing moment, his brother's voice distant, barely recognizable amid the cries that were filling his aching head. He tried to focus, tried to push through it all, but he found the sensations to be overwhelming, the emotions flowing into him like a raging river, pulling him down into the abyss below.

"Sam!" Finally, after what seemed like hours, the voices eased, his brother's hands holding his shoulders firmly, shaking him, his green eyes wide and afraid. The younger hunter could feel himself moving, feel his brother's arms around his shoulders, pulling him. He fought back for just a moment, Dean's grip instantly growing stronger, before he allowed himself to be led away, allowed himself to fall into safety, to fall back into the protective shadow cast by his big brother.

"Dean." He managed to bite out as the voices began to fade, the overwhelming sense of fear drowning along with the din. It had been tough, too tough, the terror of each victim's abduction had run over him, seeping into his bones, and planting itself deep within his heart.

"I'm here, Sammy."

"My head hurts." His voice was nothing more then a whisper, his expressive eyes closed tightly against the world around him. He sunk back into the comfort of the impala's leather seats as his brother slid into the seat beside him, the car roaring to life while the last of the night's terror faded away.

"Are you still with me?"

"Yeah."

"Vision?"

"No."

"Then what was it?" Dean asked tensely, searching the unfamiliar streets for a motel, his grip tight on the wheel. Whatever had happened back there had scared the older hunter to death. The change had been so instant, so unexpected, that it had momentarily frozen the terrified man. Sam had just stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes rolling back in his head as he stared at the building before them, and Dean had been at a loss to explain it.

"I don't know. It was like I could hear all the people that went missing. They were screaming." Sam didn't see the point in lying, knowing that he could not go through this alone and keep his sanity.

"Like they're spirits are here?" Dean asked, pulling into the parking lot of their newest home.

"No. It's just like echoes, you know. Like the last thing they were feeling before they got taken."

"Maybe your spidy senses are growing?" Dean smiled, trying to lighten the oppressive mood.

"I sure hope not." It was nothing more the a sigh, his voice so weak, so quiet that his brother had barely been able to hear him. Barely.

"We'll fix it, Sam."

"Yeah."

"We will. Now just sit tight, I'll get the room." Dean was out of the car before his brother had the time to react, his mind racing. He had seen over and over again what the visions had done to his brother, and he just hoped to god that they weren't getting more powerful. Because, honestly, he didn't think that Sam would be able to handle it.

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_The first thing he noticed was how bone chillingly cold the room was. The dark space lit by nothing more then candles, illuminating the ice covered walls like silver. It was a cellar of some sort, of that much he was sure. He strained his eyes and ears to the darkness, trying to take in everything around him, make some sense of what he was seeing._

_As his eyes adjusted to the gloom he saw that the small room was empty, save for an old stone alter, the figure laying across it shivering in the icy air. He tried to move forward, tried to go to the girl, to tell her that everything would be all right, but he found himself unable to move, unable to do anything other then watch the horrible scene unfold. _

_He could see the knife being drawn along her tense body, feel the fear that was running over her soul, surging into her very being. He could see the terror shinning through her large eyes, see her body twitch as her blood ran freely, but still he could do nothing. And then it happened. The billowing fog raced into one of the girls, took control of her frail body, spoke through her in a voice not her own._

_"For love, for family, for destiny. We do not chose our will, we save our souls." And the knife came down, plunging through the captive girl's heart, her muffled scream flowing over into him as he shot forward. _

"NO!" Sam sat bolt upright in the bed, his body covered with sweat, breathing shallow and unsteady. Dean was at his side in a matter of moments, holding his shaking shoulders before his eyes even began to focus, before he could even figure out where he was. It had been so real, so terrifying, so horrible, that he felt the bile rise, his stomach churning as the last images rolled over and over through his mind.

"Sam, you all right?"

"I think I'm gonna hurl."

Dean got the trash bin to him just in time, rubbing his brother's back slowly as the younger man leaned over the bed. He let Sam finish before handing him a glass of water, the taller man leaning against the head board, face pale and sweaty.

"You ok?"

"Yeah." Sam sighed as he spit out some water before holding the cold glass to his forehead. "Peachy."

"Was it a vision?"

"Yeah."

"Any idea's where we have to go?" Dean was speaking calmly, knowing he had to give Sam space. His little brother watched people die, plain and simple, and Dean knew just how hard that must be for him to deal with, just how awful it must be to watch people die, knowing there was no way to stop it.

"It's a cellar of some kind, but it doesn't matter. She's dead."

"How do you know? There might still be a chance."

"No. This was different. I think I was watching something that's already happened."

"Well that's not really very fair. Why the hell even see it?"

"I don't know."

"Do you know who it was?"

"Yeah, I think it was Megan Marshal."

"Damn it."

"Hey, Dean, we tried. And look, there's still one more victim that needs to be taken, we can stop that."

"Yeah, but what about the girl?"

"We can find her body, bring her home."

"You mean tell her parents that their kid's never coming back?"

"Dean."

"Yeah, yeah, closure. I know the drill."

"We can't save everyone."

"Yeah, I know." Dean mumbled, knowing all to well that he couldn't save everyone. But that would still never stop him from trying, never make him forget the ones he couldn't get to in time. "So, did you get anything on the thing that killed her?"

Sam couldn't suppress the shutter that ripped through his body, the girls in the cellar were something he knew he didn't want to mess with. "Yeah, and it was creepy as hell, too."

"What was it."

"I think it was the Trater girls."

"I thought they died."

"Yeah well, I couldn't really tell, but I think they were alive. And get this, during the ritual gray smoke appeared and possessed one of the girls, chanted something and then stabbed Megan in the heart."

"Wait, wait, ritual?"

"Yeah, they had her pined to a blood soaked, stone alter. It was pretty bad." Sam nearly whispered, his mind drifting back to the nightmare he had witnessed, feeling the terror all over again.

"What'd the possessed chick say?" Dean cut in, seeing the color begin to drain out of his brother's face once more.

"Uh. 'For love, for family, for destiny. We do not chose our will, we save our souls.' But it wasn't her talking, it was whatever possessed her."

"You think daddy dearest is using his kids to carry on his work?"

"Seems like it. But why?"

"He's buckets of crazy?"

"I think there maybe a little more to it then that, Dean."

"That's all the reason I need. All we gotta do is burn the bones."

"And what's to say the girls won't just keep doing it?"

"What's to say they will?"

"You didn't see it, Dean. The other girl, the way she looked at her possessed sister, it was like she was looking at her hero."

"Well then, we take care of the girls, too. And no not shoot them." Dean continued, seeing the scowl that crossed his brother's face. "We just lock 'em up somewhere and then call the boys in blue. Easy as pie."

"Easy as pie?"

"Yup, pie."

"Dean, when is anything ever that easy?"

"Well, think about it this way. We're do."

"I don't think the world works like that."

"Yeah well, it should." Dean sighed, throwing himself down on his own bed, suddenly overcome by exhaustion. '_When all is said and done.'_ He told himself. '_The cosmos really are gonna own us. Big time.'_ "So, how long till the next one goes missing?"

"Uh." Sam began kneading his forehead, trying to lessen the pain of the not completely vision related headache the conversation was inspiring. "Five days till the next one goes missing."

"And then five days after that?"

"Well, I really don't know. I mean, the bodies were always found five days after, but they'd been dead for a little while at least. And now the bodies aren't showing up at all, so who knows?"

"So, all we know is that, in five days, someone is gonna go missing from the library?"

"Not if we can help it." Sam mumbled, pulling open his laptop.

They sat in silence for another hour, both taking in what Sam had seen, both planning what their next step would be. They knew that, if they didn't figure out what was going on in the next five days, then they would have to wait another five years.

But it was more then that, much more. This was their first hunt since the Asura, their first hunt since being the hunted, and neither man really knew how to react to that. They had let their guards down without even knowing it, and their enemies had jumped at them faster then either brother ever thought possible. And who's to say that it wouldn't happen again.

"So." Dean began, clearing his throat after the long silence. He didn't like the quiet, didn't like the emptiness that it inspired, that autonomy that it suggested. Dean like noise, he liked action, he like crowds of noisy, action filled people. The silence to him was like death, barreling down upon him, closing him in, driving him back into his own soul, forcing him behind his own walls. No, he liked places where he could lose himself, and the silence did just the opposite.

"Yeah?" Sam answered, not looking up from the computer.

"What happened back at the library?"

"What do you mean?" The younger Winchester skirted the issue as he typed, knowing full well what his brother meant. The only problem was, that he didn't know what had happened.

"I told you, I could feel them all." He continued after a moment, seeing that his brother wasn't about to let it go.

"Yeah, and?"

"And what? That's it."

"Come on, Dude, that's weak."

"Well, I'm sorry, but that's all I've got."

Dean's reply was cut off by the shrill ringing of his cell phone. Both brothers watched as the device flashed and rang, Sam and Dean both knowing who was on the other end, but both still just watching it.

"You gonna get that?" Sam asked, looking back down at the laptop.

"No."

"How many times has he called you?"

"I don't know. It's gotta be near a hundred now though."

"You should call him back."

"Well excuse me Mr. Hypocritical, but I believe you have just as many on your phone."

"Yeah, yeah. You do know he's gonna kick our asses when he finds us."

"If he finds us."

"What?" Sam's head shot up, brown eyes staring incredulously at his brother. "You're hiding!" He didn't know why he didn't see it before. The aimless driving, the lack of hunts, everything. His brother hadn't been taking a break, hadn't been healing, he'd been hiding from their father.

"Don't sound so surprised."

"Why?"

"Why, not?"

"Dean?" He didn't know what else to say. Dean nearly worshiped their father. His big brother needed the older man far more then he would ever let on. He wanted the family to be together, wanted to hunt with their dad, wanted to make the man proud. And Sam just couldn't fathom the idea that he would willing hide from him.

"Look, I'm twenty-eight. I shouldn't need to hang around with my dad all the time."

"Well, if that isn't a half- assed answer then I don't know what is."

"You're changing the subject, what happened today?"

"And you're changing the subject, why are you hiding from dad?"

"You know, I don't need this." Dean stood, shrugging into his jacket and scooping up the motel and car keys.

"Where're you going?"

"Out."

"Out where?"

"Out, out. I don't know."

And before Sam could answer Dean was gone, door slamming in his wake, the younger man not even knowing where the conversation had gone wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

_hello, hello. i just want to say thank you all again for the reviews, they are very much appreciated. sorry to say, there is no action in this chapter, just a whole lot of angst and some brotherly bonding. but i promise, the action and those creepy sisters will be back soon. drop me a line and let me know what you think. :)_

D: as always, i own nothing.

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 5

Sam sat alone in the musty motel room, his gaze fixed, staring at the door his brother had disappeared behind not ten minutes before. Where had it all gone so wrong? When had everything in their lives become so unbelievably hard? There was a time when Sam thought his family was indestructible, a time when he was certain that, no matter what, they would be there for him, forever. But as the years washed over him, he felt that resolve ebbing slowly away. After all, Winchesters or not, that were still just human beings.

The young hunter rested his elbows on his knees, rubbing his rough hands over his face, trying to make some sense of the spiraling world around him. Dean was hiding from their father. It was something he couldn't even comprehend, something he never would have imagined possible, and here it was staring him in the face like a looming jackal, laughing at him, ripping him apart. His big brother had slipped beyond that invisible line, fallen to a point that Sam could not reach, and it made the boy's heart freeze. Dean was falling, fading, disappearing, and Sam was at a loss for what to do.

He wanted to save him, wanted to help him, to bring him back from the abyss he had somehow been lost to. But how can you save your own lifeline? Dean was supposed to be the hero, supposed to be the perfect son, the one who would never falter. He had a snappy comeback line for everything, had a lightness about his step that not even death could stop. He was supposed to be superman, not Sam. And that scared the younger hunter to no end. He couldn't lose Dean, he wouldn't allow it. Not to a scarecrow, not to a demon, and certainly not to his own twisted soul. His big brother was needed, wanted, loved, and he would let him know that, even if he had to march straight into hell to tell him.

He jumped when his cell phone began to ring, the sound deafening in the oppressive silence. He pulled out the phone, staring almost mesmerized at the name flashing across the screen; his father who knows where, but still seeming so unbelievably close. The youngest Winchester hesitated for only a moment, knowing things had gotten too out of hand, knowing that if they didn't get help, didn't at least try to find the daylight, that they would be trapped in the darkness forever.

He took a long, calming breath before answering the call, his mind racing, nerves frayed into tatters. "Hello."

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John nearly swerved off the highway when heard the voice, small and weak, but there, ringing in his ears. He had been calling for so long, hoping with every fiber of his being that he would hear their voices, that his wayward sons would answer his call. But, in truth, he had really never expected it. He had been greeted by silence far too often, listened to their voice mails so many times that he had them memorized, but still he had continued to call. And, the dark truth of the matter was that, before that moment, he had started to believe that his friends were right, that his sons were truly gone.

Even Missouri's information had not been enough to throw that terrible idea from his mind, erase the horrid scenarios that played out before his burning eyes. It had just been so long.

"Sammy?" There was so much else he wanted to say, the words jumping around inside his mind, flowing through his tired soul like fire, but nothing but his young son's name reached his lips.

"Yeah, dad?"

"Oh, thank god. Where are you? Are you hurt? Is Dean ok?" It was suddenly like the floodgates had burst, his son's soft and tired voice pushing the elder hunter on, his fears growing the longer Sam remained silent. And, be it father's intuition, or hunter's instinct he knew, beyond a doubt, that something was very, very wrong.

"I'm fine."

"And Dean?"

"Yeah, he's ok too."

"No broken bones, no possession, no demons?" John felt his worry turning to anger with each word he spoke. They were fine, safe, unharmed, so why the hell hadn't they answered their phones?

"We're both fine." Sam visibly recoiled at the word, almost as though someone had burned him with hot wax. Possession. It just sounded dirty, sounded wrong. He felt like he had been used, been made to attack his brother, made to hurt innocent people, and that was something he knew he would never be able to forget. He had caused pain, he had caused sorrow, and there was nothing he could do to change it.

He knew he should tell his father, knew that the older man had experienced the exact same thing, but he still couldn't. They had both been forced to watch through their own eyes, feel their own bodies move as Dean cried out in pain, as Dean suffered yet again at the hands of his family. He knew he should tell his father, hell, he knew he should tell anyone that would understand, but he still couldn't, still wouldn't. Because, the truth of the matter was that he had not forgiven his father for hurting Dean, just like he hadn't forgiven himself.

Demons wormed their way into you when you let your guard down, when you screwed up, and his poor older brother had been the one to suffer for their shortcomings. Dean had always been strong, been solid, been there for them. But when he needed help, when he was hurt and alone, both John and Sam had miss-stepped, let themselves be taken by the very thing that was tormenting the middle Winchester. And they had both let that evil use them to hurt him even further. And to Sam, that was unacceptable, under any circumstances. If Dean was strong enough to keep them safe, then by god, he would make himself strong enough to do the same.

"You're fine? Fine! I have been calling you for two months." He spoke slowly, his anger rising at the sound of his son's calm voice.

"Yeah, I know."

"Yeah, you know? What the hell is wrong with you two? I call you, you answer."

"I'm sorry, there's just been--."

"You're sorry? You're sorry! Sorry doesn't begin to cut it Sam. What the hell's been going on?"

"Nothing."

"Don't give me that bull, I'm your father and I demand respect. Now tell me what the hell you two've been up to."

"Guess we're not being tailed anymore." Sam's voice sliced back through the phone, his anger measurable even at a distant. Their father had no right. He had put his boys through too much, taken away too much, and as far as his youngest son was concerned, he didn't deserve their respect or obedience anymore. No, he had lost that when he abandoned Dean, when he shut him out of his life with no explanation at all. In the younger Winchester's mind that had been the final straw, the last mistake he would forgive his father for.

He knew he did it for so called protection, but that still wasn't good enough. Dean had done everything the older man had asked, given up everything his life could have been because John Winchester told him to, and then that same man had the nerve to turn his back on him. It didn't take a genius to see that Dean would never have a normal life, that that path was lost to him far too long ago. He was the definition of a hunter, and that left room for little else. They had both made him that, and they had both walked away. Sam was angry at himself, and he knew deep down that he always would be, but his anger at his father eclipsed all that.

Sam had left home at the age of eighteen, walked out the door a hormonal teenager looking for something, anything, that he could use to rebel against his father's iron fist. He had made a mistake, possibly one of the biggest mistakes of his entire life, but he had been young, naive. John, on the other hand, had no excuse. He was a grown man, a father, and he had left his son standing alone in the darkness. He should have known better, hell he did know better, and yet he still did it. And Sam knew, without a doubt, that that single action had changed his big brother in ways neither of them could comprehend. Dean's soul died a little that day, and the rest had been slowly crumbling ever since.

"You know what, I don't have time for your crap, Sam. Put your brother on the phone."

"He's not here."

"Then where the hell is he?"

"I don't know." Sam's voice softened, and John couldn't help but notice how tired he sounded. And, at that moment, he wanted nothing more in the world then to be with his sons, to see his boys again. He had made so many mistakes throughout their short lives, had made so many decisions that he knew he would regret forever. But somehow, by the sheer grace of god, they were still alive, still somewhere on this earth, still somewhere within his reach.

He knew he didn't deserve them, just as he knew he didn't deserve Mary. But he had them, and he loved them with everything his battered heart and soul had in it. Every night he wished that things could be different, that they could be normal, a family. It was an image that not even fire could destroy, a little bit of perfection that, though only existing in his mind, was still enough to force him to breath, still enough to make him wake in the mornings.

"What happened? I thought you said he was all right?"

"He's fine. He just went out."

"I haven't heard from you two in two months, and now you answer the phone just to have a little chat! I don't buy it, what's wrong, where are you?"

"We're on a hunt."

"Where?"

"We can handle it."

"Sam."

"Hey, you're the one that called me. What do you want?"

"I want to make sure my children are still alive."

"Wow, that's new."

"Sam Winchester, you do not speak to me like that! Now tell me where you are." John couldn't handle it anymore, his anger rising with ever word his young son spoke. What the hell had happened to his children? He had trained them to be soldiers to follow orders, to respect him. When the hell had they both gone AWOL.

"You know what, Dad. If you're so good at your job, why don't you find us." And with that the call was ended. John cursing as he bounded the radial. Nothing, just voice mail. John cursed again, pulling off to the side of the road before punching in Dean's number. His worry quickly turning into unrestrained anger.

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Dean drove down the road, music on low, mind wandering as he sped down the open highway. He watched the nondescript land flash by on both sides, let his mind melt away as he focused on the nothingness all around him. Truth be told, he had not been hiding from his father, well, not purposefully anyway. No, he kept away from the older man because he was afraid to see him.

He had screwed up, let his guard down time and time again, and he just couldn't face the older man anymore. What would John do if he knew that Sam had been possessed, if he knew that he had let it go one for five long months? What would he say when he found out that Sam had nearly frozen to death in the northern Montana wilderness? And the tulpa, oh god that damn tulpa. Dean had done some stupid things in his life, but that one topped them all. He had gone against a cardinal rule of hunting, relying on the enemy, adding one more evil being to this world. And he had made it in the likeness of Sam, made something that was the epitome of everything his little brother feared he would become. And then he had nearly forced said brother to kill it, put a bullet through the head of something that was, in essence, himself.

No, there were so many things wrong with the whole situation that Dean knew his father wouldn't understand, knew his father wouldn't forgive. He was supposed to protect him, supposed to look out for Sammy, and look what he had allowed to happen.

The ringing brought him out of his self imposed hell, his father's name flashing across the screen. He sighed heavily, throwing it to the seat beside him, Sammy's seat and drove on, his mind shifting as he glanced again at the empty space. _Maybe._ He thought. _Maybe I should just keep driving, _he absently wondered how long it would take them to notice, if they would even care. Maybe he should leave them all to the lives they wanted, stop dragging them back into his. He needed them, more then they would ever know, but he also wanted them to be safe and happy, and maybe, just maybe, there was a way to make that possible.

He jumped when his phone chimed again, signaling that he had a text message. He ran a hand over his tired eyes before pulling off the road to read the message.

_Dean. Spoke to Sam. Call ASAP! John. _

"Damn it." He breathed, looking back and forth between the phone and the open road before him, his mind at a loss. He could just keep driving, just disappear. It was so easy, so tempting, so needed, so freakishly right. He could just drift away, at this very moment, just be gone like a shadow, a barely remembered piece of the past. He nearly jumped for the second time that nigh when his phone began to ring again, his eyes lingering on the long, empty road a minute more before flipping open his phone, Sam's name flashing across the screen.

With a sad sigh he let it click over to voice mail, knowing deep in his heart that no matter what happened he would never be able to drive away from his brother, that Sammy was the one thing in his life that he could never walk away from. He sat for a few more minutes, waiting for the inevitable voice message, knowing that when his little brother wanted to talk there would be no stopping him. He smiled despite himself when his phone chimed to life.

_Uh, Dean. Hey, uh, sorry, you know for what I said. I didn't mean it, I know dad can be a jerk, and I know he's always really hard on you, but uh, you know, I didn't mean that you needed him or anything, I was just shocked, and, well, I'm sorry. I've got a headache, and I'm tired and all, and I didn't mean to fight. It's just, I wanna make sure you're ok, man. Just, call me b_a_ck, all right?_

Dean pulled back onto the road as the message ended, calling his brother back while he sped towards the motel.

"Hello?" Dean cursed softly, his little brother sounded so lost, so hurt, so Sammy, that he was immediately upset with himself for storming out. He knew Sam didn't do it on purpose, knew that the poor kid's heart was out on his sleeve for all the world to see, but that still didn't stop the guilt that was growing. He smiled after a moment though, glancing back at the road in the rearview mirror, knowing that, had he decided to drive off into the night, the one person he would never be able to hide from was his baby brother.

"You hungry? 'Cause there's this great looking little diner a few blocks down from the motel."

"I'm starved actually." Dean could feel the smile behind his brother's words, feel the tension releasing as they spoke. Maybe, just maybe, their lives could be fixed.


	6. Chapter 6

_thank you all again for the great reviews, they really mean a lot to me. as always, enjoy the new chapter and let me know what you think. :)_

D: i dont own supernatural, this is all just for fun.

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 6

The brothers sat in the brightly lit diner, their stomachs full, remnants of burgers and fries scattered about their plates. It was the first time Dean had seen Sam eat in days, his little brother's color finally returning, eyes finally losing the dullness that had settled in when the Asura made its presence known. And Dean couldn't help but feel relieved, couldn't help but let his tried body relax, even if it was only a little.

He had been so afraid for his little brother, so worried about what that demon had done to him, what it had stolen from the younger man. Sam didn't deserve any of this, ever, and it made Dean's heart break to think of everything he had to endure, ever obstacle placed in the caring man's way. Sam was a good person, one of the best people he had ever known, and it enraged him to see how much life had taken from him.

But the silence that had descended around them was not the silence that had plagued them earlier. No, this one wasn't as empty, wasn't as unmoving, wasn't as complete. This was the silence that came with being content, came with being together, with everything around them falling slowly into place. And, while both brothers knew that it wasn't indefinite, and that their hold on each other and the world around them had grown frighteningly fragile, they both still relished their new found understanding.

Sam sat opposite his brother, laptop open, brown eyes scanning the pages as he typed. And Dean was happy to watch him work, happy to see the ghost of a smile flash across his brother's stoic face. He knew they were far from all right, knew there were still many, many issues standing in their way. But now, at that very moment, none of that bothered him. They were normal, and even if it were only for a moment, Dean wasn't about to complain.

"So." Dean began, not wanting to ruin their little moment, but also not wanting to continue on in silence. "Anything new about our mystery girls?"

"No, not about the girls anyway." Sam answered absentmindedly, taking a sip of his beer before resuming his search.

Dean shifted nervously in his seat, seeing that it would be up to him to keep the conversation going, to keep up the mask of normal they were both portraying so well. "Then what?"

"Then what, what?"

" 'not about the girls anyway' usually means that you found something else. Come one, throw me a bone here, man."

At that Sam finally looked up, taking in his brother's appearance almost as through he had forgotten that the older man was there. He smiled sheepishly before he continued. "Oh yeah, sorry. Uh, I was going through some of the witness accounts."

"I thought you said there were no witnesses?"

"There weren't."

"Ok. Are we working on the same case here? Missing students, library, funny ritual? Ringing any bells?"

"Yeah, same one. They're not witnesses like saw the crime, they're witnesses like, 'I was the last person to see so and so.'"

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"So? Anything worth telling me about?"

"Uh, yeah. Seems they all went to the library to do research."

"That's generally what people use them for."

"And." Sam continued, eyeing his interrupting brother. "They all stayed longer then they'd wanted to."

"Well, how do they know? I mean, they were never seen again, right? So, how do they know how long their friends stayed?"

"Some got cell phone calls, others were at the library and left them there. Apparently, the disappearances have become like legends around here. A lot of older kids tell the new kids about it to scare them."

"Doesn't really seem to be working."

"Actually, it does. The library is apparently open till midnight, but most kids leave around eight or nine."

"So, the disappearances have been happening at midnight?"

"No, more like eleven or so. None of the closing staff has ever gone missing, but they remember seeing the victims leave between ten thirty and eleven."

"Well, that's kind of arbitrary."

"Well, it's consistent with itself."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

"So." Dean began again, giving his little brother a look. "Who was the last person to see Megan Marshal?"

"Uh, a kid named Trevor Nammen. He's a sophomore at the college."

"Well then, first thing in the morning, we'll talk to him."

"Yeah, ok."

"Anything else?" Dean asked, sensing there was still something bothering his little brother.

"Uh, yeah, I found some stuff out about the family." Sam answered, his eyes drifting back to the computer screen. It wasn't that he didn't want to look at his brother, no, there was more to it then that. In a way, he felt that he couldn't look at Dean, couldn't meet him eye to eye. He could feel the anger and the sorrow that his brother's tortured soul possessed, feel it playing out beneath his calm and stoic exterior. He didn't know how he sensed it, how it was somehow stronger then before, all he knew was that it was there, and the reality of it was terrifying.

He had always relied on his brother to be strong, to be his lifeline, but ever since the Asura he had seen something different whenever he looked at him. It was almost as though he could still feel the emotions that the demon had been feeding on, almost feel what the Asura had pulled from the older man, and that unnerved Sam to no end. He was afraid that they had somehow messed up again, that the demon was still with him, still attacking his brother. And he couldn't help but feel responsible.

Dean rolled his eyes as his little brother stealth fully deflected the question, knowing that Sam knew what he had meant. He wanted his brother to open up to him, to tell him what was wrong, but he wasn't sure how to do it. Sam had always been the one to initiate moments, to bring up his feelings, and now he had locked himself away, and Dean for the life of him couldn't find the key.

"What'd you find?"

"Well, apparently, Martin Trater wasn't the first murderer in his family. I sifted through all the satanic murders over the past hundred years, and found a pattern fitting this one. Every five years, five victims go missing."

"And no one ever found it strange?"

"Well, unfortunately, people get killed all the time."

Dean visibly cringed when he heard his brother's tone, thankful that Sam's eyes were still on the computer screen. It was just so empty, so hollow. He was stating facts, but it still just sounded wrong to the older man. His little brother had always felt remorse, even when talking about people he had never met. He just cared so damn much that it was amazing. But now, now there was just something off, something gone. It wasn't that he cared any less, no, Dean was sure that if anything the poor kid cared more. It was just, well, he sounded so empty, almost as though apart of him were missing.

"Dean?" Dean shook himself, knowing from his brother's tone that it wasn't the first time he had called to him.

"Huh? Yeah?"

"Have you been listening to a word I've said?" Sam asked exasperated as he looked up at his squirming brother.

"Yeah, I've been listening. What'd you say?"

Sam rolled his eyes, shaking his head before taking another sip of beer. "I said. That the reason no one's put it together is because all the m.o's are different."

"Different how?"

"Well, one thing's always the same. It's always every five years, and always five victims over the same timeline."

"So, what's the different part?"

"Where they're found. Apparently, the only time they were ever found on purpose was with Martin. Usually, the bodies were found years later, many times by accident."

"So, what. Martin was just showboating?"

"Yeah. I mean, the victims that were found before were always in a pentagram, always showed signs of bloodletting, and the last victim taken was always at the north facing point, but, well, their bodies were all dispatched of differently.

"Some were just laid out in the forest, some were buried, some were put in stone caskets. But, none were ever meant to be found."

"So?"

"So. Most people never put two and two together because it was never really obvious that all the disappearances were connected. And, it looks like the family moved around so, most just went unsolved."

"How many people?"

"Over a hundred. I mean, as far as I can tell, this has been going on since the mid to early eighteen hundreds at least. And, I mean, five people ever five years for over a hundred year. It adds up."

He looked again into his little brother's eyes and felt the shock returning. They were strangely empty, a little vacant, and it was more unnerving then anything the older hunter had seen so far. And he knew, then and there, that something was wrong. He sounded like Sam, Dean thought, acted like Sam, but there was still something just a little bit off.

"Christo." Dean barely mumbled the word, but he might as well have screamed it for what it did to his little brother.

Sam didn't flinch at the name, but his eyes, they gave it all away. Dean could see his little brother's resolve all but crumble, everything they had worked back up to falling down around them in pieces. He didn't know why he said it, didn't know what had propelled him other then his own fears, and he wished, with everything he had in him that he could take it back. That he didn't have to see the sorrow that was now filling Sam's dark brown eyes.

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John swerved again as his phone rang, the older man anxiously pulling it from his pocket, swearing to himself that, if it were either of his children, he wouldn't yell. But his heart sank a little when, instead of seeing 'Sam' or 'Dean' flash across the screen he saw 'Missouri'. He took a deep, calming breath before he answered the call, fearing what the psychic may have to say about his two lost boys.

He had known that he'd screwed up ever since his boys were little, ever since he watched Dean's face fall when the Striga attacked Sam, ever since he realized that he had put too much weight on their little shoulders. But what the hell had he done to make them ignore him, to make them hide from him? He knew Sam was capable of walking away, hell, he had cut him out of his life for two years, but Dean, that was something he just couldn't understand.

He had always relied so heavily on his older son, always needed him, to keep Sammy safe, to keep himself standing. And now, well now he just couldn't believe what was happening. Dean was hiding from him, and that fact hurt worse then the possibility of them being injured. Broken bones could heal, hearts and souls were a different story.

"Missouri?" John asked, flipping open the phone as uncertainty filled his heart.

"It's lessened a little, John." Her voice rang through, and the seasoned hunter couldn't help but relax as he heard the tension leave her voice.

"So, you think whatever it was is over?" He knew it was wishful thinking, knew he had to get to his boys, get to Sam, but still, the father in him had to ask, had to hope that his children were safe.

"No, John, I don't. And I know that you don't, either."

"What do you think it means?"

"I don't know but, John, there's something else."

'_Oh god, what now.'_ He thought as he closed his eyes, trying in vein to calm himself. He didn't know how much more news he could handle at the moment.

"What?"

"It's Dean."

"What about him?" The elder Winchester's heart clenched as his hand gripped the wheel even tighter.

"I can feel him too."


	7. Chapter 7

_i just want to say thank you all again for the great reviews, they really are apreciated. i hope you all enjoy this chapter, it is mostly info, but i promise the action will be back in the next chapter. _

D: still dont own supernatural!

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 7

John nearly drove right off the side of the road, Missouri's information was so unexpected, so seemingly unreal that the elder Winchester didn't know what to do. She could feel Dean, and John knew that that wasn't good, under any circumstances. He had no powers, had nothing within him that should be calling out to Missouri, reaching out across the country as strong as Sam. His younger son was a psychic, was special, we different. But Dean, no, John had never seen such power in his eldest son, had never suspected such other worldly strength, and that terrified him. Was there something he had missing? Something he had somehow over looked?

And, at the moment he felt like kicking himself. Of course there was something he was missing. Dean. He had been so focused on Sammy, so consumed by revenge that he had over looked his son for far too long. He had been surprised that Dean didn't follow orders, didn't allow his brother to destroy the Demon when they had the chance. And he had been surprised by his son's fear in the Washington woods. Dean, his little solider, his first born was so much more then the older man had let himself see, so much more broken then he had let himself believe. And now, now he was losing them both, and he could just tell, feel it in his bones, that something was growing, something was threatening to take them away. And, this time, he was afraid that it actually might succeed.

"John, honey, maybe you should pull over." He heard the psychic's voice chime through the phone he still held to his ear, but it sounded distant, like something hiding just beyond the shadows. And, without really thinking about it, he pulled over, trying his best to calm his rapid heart.

"What do you mean you felt Dean?"

"I mean just what I said. He was there, mixed in with Sam somehow, but he was weaker."

"Is something wrong?"

"You tell me, have you found them?"

"I got a hold of Sam on the phone."

"And?"

"And, he says they're fine. But he won't tell me where he is."

"Why the hell not?"

"I don't know, he just said they were hunting. They're hiding from me, Missouri."

The woman could feel the sadness with which her old friend spoke the last part, hear the emptiness behind his voice. He loved his boys, so very, very much, and she knew that their disappearance was killing him. She knew how much this family needed each other, knew that the loss of any one of them would be devastating. But worst of all was that she knew all the people involved, had reached into each of their souls, and that made their plight all the more unbearable.

"Where are you?"

"Uh, I'm just outside of Rhinelander, Wisconsin."

"What's there?"

"It's the last place the boys were seen."

"Why don't you come back here, John."

"No, I need to keep looking."

"You've been looking for two month. Please, come back here and let me help you."

"No, Missouri---." John was cut off by the sudden gasp on the other end of the phone. His mind suddenly screamed as he heard Missouri struggle for breath, his heart beating faster then he ever though possible as he pulled back onto the road, driving like a bat out of hell back towards Lawrence.

"Oh god, John." Her voice was so low, so quiet and so pain-filled that the hunter didn't know what to do. He was hours away from her, even at full speed he would not be able to get there in time to stop the thing that was attacking her, to save her. He felt his blood begin to run cold as he listened to her shallow, sobbing breaths.

"Missouri! Missouri? What's wrong?"

"Oh god. Oh no."

"Missouri!"

"It's Sam." She bit out through her choking breaths, her sobs clear through the phone. It was the worse pain she had ever felt, the despair so great, so all consuming that it literally hurt her heart, dug through her soul. And it was worse, so much worse then the pain that had awoken her the other night, the pain that had first made her aware of the youngest Winchester.

"What!" He nearly screamed when he heard her declaration, his heart beating even faster, if that was at all possible.

"It's Sam, oh god, I don't know what happened, but his powers are stronger then before."

"I thought you said it had lessened?"

"It had."

"Why is it hurting you? Why are you crying?" He was screaming into the phone but he didn't care. This was his son, his Sam, and he had to know what was going on. The fact that his essence was causing so much pain, so much turmoil to his friend was beyond alarming and it was all John could do to keep from screaming out in blind frustration. _What the hell was going on?_

"Despair." She forced out through measured breathes, her racing heart finally beginning to slow.

"What?"

"Oh god, he's just so lost, so empty. It's awful, John."

"What about, Dean?"

"He's gone."

"What? Gone! What the hell's that supposed to mean? Where is he!"

"Not gone, like gone, John. I just, I don't feel him anymore."

"Then what the hell happened?"

"I don't know. It had lessened, and then I felt Dean for a while. But now, oh god, now it's just so strong again."

"What's going on, Missouri?"

"I don't know. But you're not gonna find your boys driving aimlessly around."

"I know."

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The elder Winchester's mind continued to race as he drove on through the night, the ground between he and Lawrence disappearing beneath the black truck's hungry tires. Hours, he had been driving for hours, but nothing on this earth was going to make him stop. He had to find out what was going on, had to know what was wrong with his children.

Everything that had been happening was suddenly drowning him, suddenly overwhelming his already exhausted mind. And now, Dean. It was all just too much, his already broken heart shattering into even more pieces, his aching body sinking further and further into the seat as he drove. He had to get to Missouri, had to figure this all out, because, if he lost his boys, then he knew he would have no other reason to go on. Even revenge wouldn't be strong enough.

Finally, six hours after their frantic conversation, the beaten and weathered hunter pulled up outside of his friend's house. But, instead of running into the house, instead of meeting this hunt head on, he found himself hesitating, sitting in the truck as he stared at the closed front door. This wasn't right, this wasn't real, it couldn't be. He was hunting his own children, tracking them with a psychic, all while the boys were hiding from him. And he couldn't for the life of him figure out where everything had gone so terribly wrong.

He wasn't supposed to hunt his own children, wasn't supposed to hear about their 'powers' reaching out to Missouri from only god knows where. No, he was supposed to be sitting with them at the bar, exchanging stories, beating each other at pool. He was supposed to be with them, supposed to keep them safe, not follow two men that had become more like strangers then sons.

"Are you gonna sit out here all night!"

John visibly jumped at the sound of Missouri's voice, surprised that he had not seen her walk up to the window, had not heard her shoes crunch across the gravel lot. He was so lost in thought, so wrapped up in his own self torment that he had become oblivious to the world around him, his hunting instincts lost along with his boys.

He gave his friend a weak smile before exiting the car and following her up to the warm, yet still foreboding house. He needed to find his children, had to find his sons, but he was a afraid of what he may face at the end of his journey.

John's hand shook slightly as Missouri handed him a cup of coffee, her soft eyes boring into his troubled soul, searching for something, anything that could help put this broken family back together. She couldn't help but feel his loss, sense his fear as she scanned him, her own heart breaking when she saw how tattered his was. She cared about the boys too, as most people who really knew them did, and she couldn't bare the pain that was emanating from Sam, and from John.

But what scared her the most, what weighed heaviest on her minds was not the broken hearts, not the misery. No, what worried her most was Dean. She couldn't understand why his soul was shinning through with such strength, such conviction, and such utter devastation. She knew he was something special, knew he had a power deep within him that few people possessed, but the sheer force of it had her frightened. Something was happening, something was growing, and those two boys were right in the middle of it all.

"We have to find them." John mumbled as he put down the coffee cup, rubbing his hands over his face. It was the understatement of the century, but he didn't know what else to do or say.

"We will, John. We will." The middle-aged woman smiled as she patted his leg, her mind doing one more scan of the broken hunter before she too sat down. "You said they were last seen in Rhinelander?"

"Just outside. Someone mentioned hearing about a hunt they had there. But that's the last."

"Any use on their cell phones?"

"Yeah, but they scrambled the signal somehow. Can't track it."

"And no one has seen them?"

"No."

"Well, they said they were on a hunt, right. Maybe there's something near there?"

"Don't you think I would have found them! That hunt was a month ago, they haven't been in that area all that time."

"Well, maybe they came back?"

"And maybe they drove to Canada. Who the hell knows where they are."

"Cussin' at me is not gonna help you find them."

"Sorry. I just can't believe they're hiding from me. Missouri, have you tried calling them?"

"What do you think I am, stupid! I called them before I called you."

"Sorry, dumb question."

"You bet it was."

"Missouri, you said you felt Dean, how?"

"Honestly, John, I don't know. Sam, that makes sense, he's a psychic and a powerful one at that. But Dean, I just don't know."

"He's not psychic?"

"No. Of course he isn't."

"What am I missing? What's happening to him?"

"I don't think anything's happening to him. That boy is strong, a lot stronger then anyone gives him credit for."

"But why now?"

"My only guess is that it has something to do with, Sam. Ever since I felt him, it had just been overwhelming, but then, it dropped off a little, almost like something calmed him down. And that's when I felt, Dean."

"You think Sam's abilities have latched on to Dean somehow?"

"I think he's holding onto his brother stronger then he thinks."

"But he doesn't have any powers, any abilities."

"Oh no, he's got both, in abundance. But, John, not all strength is supernatural. If you're asking me if Dean is like his brother, then no. But he's still special."

John wanted to tell her that he knew, wanted to yell at her for even having to state the fact. But, the truth of the matter was that he had over looked his son, and there was nothing he could say or do to make that right. Dean had done everything for him, given up everything he could have had, and he had taken it all without giving his son anything in return. He had given him such responsibilty at such a young age, and Dean had accepted it all without question, without complaint. Oh no, John Winchester knew his son was special, but he just didn't know how to tell him that.

"You said you felt despair with, Sam? What's that mean?"

"He's lost, but I don't think it was all him."

"What was it then?"

"I don't know. I mean, there was Sam, but there was also this cloud around him, kind of like shadows. It was just waves and waves of emotions."

John's mind immediately returned to Washington, and to Shadow Pine Highway. Shadows of emotions, it couldn't be, they killed it. Dean would have told him if something happened, he would have called if something was wrong with his brother.

"What happened in Washington?" Missouri was looking at the hunter, her sharp eyes piercing into him, reading him. She knew it was an invasion of privacy, but at that moment she didn't really care. She knew, deep in her heart, that they were racing against the clock, and the longer they took to find the boys, the lower their chances got.

"Nothing."

"Bull. Do you want me to help find them or not?"

John took a deep, steadying breath before looking up at the woman, his eyes hard and cold, the memory of what had happened still too fresh, still too real, even almost six months on. He had been betrayed, his sons' lives traded, played with like pieces of a board game, and it still made him sick, still made him want to vomit every time he thought about it.

"Joshua lured them there, tried to trade their souls to an Asura for safety."

"What! John, people have been calling me about him, asking me to look for him. Where is he?"

"He's dead."

"And you didn't think to tell anyone!"

"He tried to kill my sons. Hell he even slit Dean's throat. My god, Missouri, if the demon hadn't gotten to him first I swear I would have ripped him limb from limb."

"I knew him, I can't believe he would do that."

"You knew him! I left my children with him, I trusted him and he sent Dean to the hospital for over a month! Permanently injured him!"

"Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"Because he said he was protecting other hunter. And, after that, I just don't know who to trust anymore."

"I'm sorry."

"Dean was so cold, so hurt. And that thing, that demon almost stole his soul."

"What did you say it was again?"

"An Asura."

"How'd you get it to let him go?"

"We killed it."

"No. You couldn't have."

"We did."

"John, you can't kill one of those."

"Then we sent it back to hell."

"You can't do that, either. They are demons trapped on earth, pulling away all our misery, all our sorrow. They keep a balance. You can't get rid of one."

"Yeah, it said something like that to me. But we blessed the land, it was gone."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"John, was Sam acting strange at all, afterwards?" It was as though everything had finally fallen into place, all the pieces of the puzzle lining up before her. And it was terrifying, and she hoped, with all the power she had in her, that she was wrong.

"What are you getting at?" Had he missed something? He had been so intent of getting Dean help, so focused on saving his dying son, on rebilitating his fallen boy that he had tuned everything else out. And he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he had missed something so drastic, if he had let Sam suffer alone in silence. '_No, Dean would have found out, he would have said something.'_

"The cloud around him, it's despair, but it's not all his. It's almost like I can feel it stronger when he grows more distraught, like his pain, his fear is a beacon to all the rest."

"But do you feel a demon?"

"No, oh god, it all makes sense now. I think it was possessing him."

"What!"

"It's gone now, they did something and now everything it used to filter is bombarding the boy, driving itself into him somehow."

"He wasn't possessed, Dean would have told me."

"How long were you with your boys after the incident?"

"A few weeks."

"And you didn't notice anything."

"No--." But John's mind immediately froze. Sam was different, quieter, more solemn. He just thought it was the aftermath of the ordeal, the weight of his brother's injuries that had put the his younger son into that state, but now, he wasn't so sure. "No, he was different."

"Something happened John, something that shouldn't have."

"What would happen if they got rid of it?"

"Well, if it was possessing Sam at the time, then it would have left him open to everything it was drawing."

"Would that make his powers stronger."

"It shouldn't."

"Then what's causing that?"

"All I can guess is that it was using them somehow, channeling them, making them stronger then normal. And now that it's gone, there's nothing left to keep it in check. Kind of like a dam being broken."

"What's that gonna do to my son?"

"I don't know. But if it doesn't stop soon, he's not gonna be your son anymore. Oh." She breathed in suddenly, closing her eyes as though trying to ward something off. She sank slowly back into her chair, trying to still her racing heart, the image she had just seen still frightening.

John was immediately at her side, his breathing shallow, mind spinning, temper drifting between worried and irate. How dare Dean keep all this from him, how dare he hide when Sammy was in so much danger. He had to find them, had to fix this, and then he had to give his oldest a piece of his mind.

"What, what is it?"

"Oh my that was creepy."

"What? What was creepy?"

"Sam, he looked right at me, John, he knew I was reading him."

"He can do that?"

"Apparently."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Not fully. He's some place were lives have been lost, a lot of lives. Taken."

"Do you know how many?"

"So many, every five years."

"Anything else?"

"No, but, John, he's still growing stronger. We don't have much time."


	8. Chapter 8

_hello everyone. once again thank you all for the wonderful reviews, they really make my day. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, let me know :)_

D: sadly, i dont own sam, dean, or even the impala :-(

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 8

Dean and Sam drove back to the motel in complete silence, neither having spoken a word since Dean muttered the name of Christ. It was stupid and he had no idea why he had said it, but that wasn't going to change the fact that it had been said. Things had just spiraled too far out of control, his little brother falling too far beyond his reach and there was nothing else he could think of doing. He knew his brother wasn't sleeping, knew he wasn't eating and, as much as he tried to ignore it, he could feel that his brother was different.

He could feel it in the air, feel it in his very bones, but he just didn't know what to do. Everything had become so hard, even their conversations were empty, their time at the diner only serving to remind Dean of just what he had lost, of just how much his brother had changed. And it wasn't fair, non of it. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask to be different, and Dean was getting to the point that he couldn't accept it anymore.

So much, they had given away so much and now fate and destiny were stealing the rest, robbing him of his baby brother, of everything he had ever known or cared about. And he was tired of it. It was the status quo or nothing at all, and Dean knew that something had to be done, and fast. Because, he just didn't know how much longer he or his brother could last.

Sam broke out of his trance as the car rumbled to a stop outside their room, the younger hunter not even pausing as he pushed himself from the seat and over to the door. He was tired, too tired to think or talk, but he knew that sleep wasn't an option. At that moment he would have wished for nothing more then to sleep for a month, to turn off his mind and just drift away, just be lost to the darkness. But he had come to accept the fact that that was now impossible.

It had been nearly three weeks since he really slept, since he closed his eyes and drifted away into the comfort of silence. Every day it was a little harder, every night he found himself staying awake just a little longer, until finally, one day it was lost to him. And now, all these weeks later, he could feel it draining him. Personally, he had no idea what was even keeping him going, what was keeping him walking and talking. He hadn't really eaten and he hadn't slept; yet he was still there, still functioning. And, quite frankly, he was terrified.

He didn't blame his brother for 'christo'ing him, hell, he would have done it himself he thought he could. But to have Dean say it to him, with such fear, such worry, was anguishing. He wanted to kick something, to punch something, to scream, to do anything that would bring them the little bit of justice they deserved. Dean shouldn't have to be afraid of him, shouldn't have to worry all the time. And he shouldn't have to be afraid of what he was, of the abilities that resided within him, hid just below the surface. They shouldn't have had to deal with any of that. They should he married to nice girls, planning their futures, complaining about work, not wondering if they would live to see the end of the week.

Sam threw himself down on the old motel room bed, his tired eyes staring up at the ceiling, silently praying for rest, for reprieve, though he knew none would come. This was what he was, the way things would be and he was accepting that, however reluctantly. But, worst of all, was that he knew that it had something to do with the Asura. It had left something in him, changed him in ways that could not be reversed, and he knew that it was somehow his fault. He shouldn't have acted so recklessly, shouldn't have cut himself with the blade when he knew the demon was still in him, shouldn't have jumped into the being in the first place. But, had he hesitated on either account he knew that his brother's life would have been forfeited, and that was something he knew he could never recover from.

"I'm sorry." His brother's voice was weaker then he thought it would be, further away then he needed it to be. He knew it wasn't his brother's fault, knew he couldn't blame Dean for his actions. But that thought didn't give the younger man much solace. Something was happening to him, changing him, and no amount of 'I'm sorrys' could change that. They were losing, he was losing, and he didn't know how to save himself.

"Sam?" Dean called out again to his brother, needing the connection, needing his family. It felt like his little brother was slipping away, drifting beyond his outstretched hands and he needed him back, needed to save him from the darkness. But he just didn't know how. And at that moment, Dean felt again like a failure. He was supposed to keep his little brother safe, supposed to make sure he was happy, loved. But somewhere along the way Dean lost himself, lost the path he had always tried so hard to follow, and Sam had been the one to pay the price.

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Yeah, right." Dean mumbled, his frustration slowly turning to anger. He needed to get through to him, and at that moment, he didn't care how.

"Just drop it, Dean."

"No, something needs to be done here."

"Maybe you could christo me again."

"I said I was sorry."

"Oh yeah, that makes it better."

"Look, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to tell that you're different. I don't know, I guess I wanted to get it out in the open before you threw me into a wall again."

Sam sat bolt upright in his bed, his dark eyes boring into his brother. He couldn't explain why he was so angry, why his brother's words were pushing him over the edge so quickly. Whether it was lack of food and sleep, or something else, something deeper and darker, Sam just couldn't tell. All he knew was that Dean was treading a very fine line, and he was about to step right over it.

"I said drop it." His little brother's voice was so cold, so venomous that he automatically stepped back. The anger beneath his words was so unbridled, so raw, so strong that Dean swore he could feel it. But still he pushed, still he tried to bring it on, to get something out of the man before him, because he knew that it was all he could do. He had tried letting it go, tried joking about it, hell, he had even tried being sincere, and nothing had worked. No, anger was their last resort, and Dean knew what he had to do.

"Why the hell would I drop it, Sammy? You're not eating, you're not sleeping, fell you barely even move anymore. And I gotta tell you, it's pretty creepy sitting next to a guy that can keep still for hours on end. Now I know something's going on here, and until you spill I'm not gonna drop it."

"You're one to talk. This isn't anything new, Dean."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what it sounds like." Sam shouted as he stood. "I changed months ago, but you just sat there, hoping it would go away."

"I didn't not." Dean answered back, unable to keep his voice from wavering. He hadn't just overlooked it, hadn't just hoped that it would go away. He really and truly didn't know that there was anything wrong with his little brother, had honestly believed that Sam was ok. And he kicked himself everyday for being so blind. He had been there, right by his side, calling out for help, and he hadn't noticed. And now he was having it all thrown right back in his face.

"Yeah, right."

"Sam, I didn't know you were possessed! And this, what's happening now, it's not the same."

"You think I don't know that! You think I can't tell what's right and wrong with my own mind? Hell, Dean, last I checked you weren't me." Sam knew that what he was saying was hurting his brother, but at that moment he didn't care. He wanted Dean to leave him alone, needed his brother to let him figure this all out by himself, to keep the older hunter out of danger. He needed to do it alone because he was afraid that his reality, what he really was, would ultimately lead to Dean's death.

"Well listen smart-ass, we're not gonna get anywhere unless you tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me what's wrong with you."

"I don't know. I haven't got a clue what the hell's wrong with me."

"I know you're lying to me. Sam, please, I'm just trying to help." Dean didn't know what else to do. He had to get to the bottom of this, had to help his little brother. It was in ever fiber of his being, burned into every bone in his body. Sam's safety always came first, his well being always placed before Dean's. And the older hunter was ok with that, had accepted that, and now wasn't going to be any different. He would sacrifice himself in a second if it meant that Sam was safe, that he could be protected.

"I don't need your help." Sam spoke evenly, a strange calm taking him over. This was his life, his soul, not his father's and certainly not Dean's. He had to figure it all out on his own, had to keep those he loved out of danger, away from the black hole what he had somehow become. He loved them too much, cared for Dean too much and he would be damned it he was going to let someone else die because of what fate had done to him.

"That's bull, Sammy." Dean ground out, feeling his tied body ache as his battered soul fell just a little. "You can't cut me out, you can't walk away from me. Not now."

"I'm sorry, Dean, but you can't help me."

"Yes I can. And I will."

"Dean. That Asura did something to me, I can feel it. Like back at the library, the voices, the pain, it was all drawn to me. And, back at the diner I swore I could feel Missouri. I don't know what's going on, but I do know that you can't save me from it."

"Then you don't know anything."

"What the hell do you think you're gonna do? I'm not some fence that can be mended, not some toy that can be fixed. I'm not human anymore, Dean!"

"Yes you are!"

"I'm drawing in emotions, hell even yours, and I can't stop it. That damn thing did something to me. Turned me into what it was."

"No, it didn't."

"Then what, Dean? What the hell am I!"

"You're Sam Winchester, you're my brother and that's all that matters. I don't care what you think that thing did to you, I don't care what you think you're turning into. Nothing, and I mean nothing is gonna change that fact that you're my little brother. You hear that. Freaking visions, telekinesis, emotion sucking, I don't give a damn what it is. I will find a way to fix it."

"Dean."

"No. I won't let them win, I wont."

Sam just stood there, staring at his brother. Dean's eyes shinning with both desperation and fear, his tense body shaking from either anger or exhaustion. But still he stood firm, tall, strong. And Sam knew then, without a doubt, that his brother would go to the grave to save him, lay down his very soul to ensure that Sam was and always would remain his geeky little brother, no matter how much reality tried to change that. And he took in all that strength, all that raw emotion, took it all into his soul, let it all give him the energy he needed.

He wasn't feeding like the Asura, that much he knew. That thing was a demon and he was human, and, even though it had changed him, opened him up as a sort of beacon to the emotions it once relied upon for life, the youngest Winchester could not gain sustenance from them, could not gain energy where the demon once had. No, what he took from Dean was the older man's resolve, his comfort, and his courage, and that was all that he needed to feel safe.

6666666666666666666

The girl sat still and quiet in the oversized arm chair, her long blonde hair cascading down her back, eyes staring off towards the far wall, mesmerized. By her feet sat her sister, the younger girl staring off into the distance, eyes matching that of her sister. They both sat so still, so quiet that it was almost like they were in a deathly sleep, both lost in a deep trance that not even the soul could break them free of.

The icy mist drifted slowly threw the wall, pushing it's way into the room, the stale air bending and shifting as the entity made its entrance. Both sisters sat up even straighter as the mist moved and billowed, morphing itself into the shape of a man. The spirit's eyes were hungry and horrible, it's face twisted in a sick, predatorial smile. It was evil, its essence so black that the little bit of light emanating through the room was stolen away by the being's mere presence.

But still the sisters looked on, their eyes wide, needy, imploring. They were seeking direction, seeking council and as the spirit finally formed, they found it, staring down at them from their father's eyes.

Martin Trater walked over to his two young daughters, the girls both rising to their feet as the tall man approached, reaching out to touch them. His hand ghosted over the girls, ran lightly by their hair, taking in everything that his girls were. He was proud of them, so very proud. They had carried on for him, done what was needed to live, to protect their family. He had never asked for any of it, had never wanted to leave his children with a burden they should never have inherited.

But now, now he had found a way to save them, to give them back the life they should have always been allowed to live, to break them of the destiny they had done nothing to warrant. He had found a way to end the cycle, break the curse that had been laid down on his ancestors long before he was even born. And he knew, now that he had the means to save his children, that he was not going to let anyone or anything stand in his way. His girls did not deserve this, he did not deserve this, but now he could fix it.

"Father?" Marci asked, her pale eyes searching those of her dead father, looking for love, looking for acceptance.

"I know the way to free us." He began, brushing his hand over his oldest's face, the young girl leaning towards the ghostly touch, needing something, anything of her father. She had been left as the leader of her family at far too young an age, left with the burden of what they had to do and why when she was still just a child.

But then her dreams were answered when her father's spirit came to her, returned her little sister, and helped them do what needed to be done.

"Free us?"

"From everything. You and your sister can be done with this all."

"What is it?"

"A power, here now. A power so great that sacrificing it can be enough to end the curse all together. No more keeping it at bay, no more watching it resurface every five years, wondering if this is the year we will fail to meet its demands. Oh no, child, this one life will be more then enough."

"How will I take it?"

"It won't be as easy as the others. This one must be lured here, must be trapped, not taken. Do you and Mellie think you can handle that?"

"Yes, anything you ask."

"Good."

"How will I lure it here?"

"Oh, that, Marci, is the easy part."


	9. Chapter 9

_thank you all again for the great reviews, they really make my day. dont worry, we're getting into the heart of the story now. _

_enjoy:)_

D: dont own them, though i wouldnt mind if i did.

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 9

Dean and Sam stood opposite each other, the small room growing even smaller as the tension mounted between them. They needed help, both of them, and they both knew it. But they just wouldn't accept it. They were both trying with everything they had in them to fix each other, to keep help, keep sanity just beyond the motel room door, and they were both failing. The tidal wave that was their lives was pulling both boys under, drowning both brothers in a world of the unknown and unexpected. And they both were on the verge of admitting defeat.

The demons were all around them, with them every step of the way and Dean wasn't sure he could handle it anymore, wasn't sure that it was even worth handling. And now this. Sam was trying to cut him out of his life, trying to leave him behind while he went up against the darkness that had been plaguing them all through their lives. And he, Dean, would not allow it. Sammy was his brother, his responsibility, and there was no way in hell that he was going to let him just walk out that door and into the night.

"Dean, I don't want you to die for me."

"Thanks for having faith in me."

"You know what I mean."

"Sammy, nothing, and I mean nothing is gonna make me stop looking out for you. So you might as well drop it now."

Knowing that there was nothing he could do to change his brother's mind, Sam gave in. Maybe they would make it out of this in one piece. Maybe Dean wouldn't be another person stolen from him, another person he would be forced to watch die. All he knew at that moment was that he was tired of thinking, tired of falling further and further down into his own confused mind. He just wanted to rest, just wanted to drift away, even though he knew that it wasn't about to happen.

"Dean." He began after a few moments, both brothers now lying face up on their beds, lost to their own whirlpools of thought. If he couldn't cut Dean out, then he would have to be completely honest with him, because, lord knows that all that need to know crap was getting old.

"Yeah?"

"I spoke to dad."

"I know."

"How?"

"He send me a message. Seemed pretty pissed, too."

"Dean. We ignored him for two months, of course he's pissed."

"He's always pissed. Nothing makes that man happy."

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine, Sammy."

Sam was completely at a loss at what to say. Here he was, talking about his father and Dean was just dismissing the man the same way he would dismiss the weather. And Sam just couldn't understand it. His brother idolized their dad, looked up to him all their lives, gave up everything he was for him. And now he just laid there, staring at the ceiling, speaking as though he could care less if their father threw himself off a bridge. And it just wasn't right.

Dean hiding from their dad was one thing. But Dean being so blasé about the entire matter was downright unnerving.

"What did he say to you?"

"Nothing, I didn't talk to him."

"But you said he sent you a message."

"Yup."

"You didn't answer?"

"Nope."

"Dean?"

"I don't want to talk to him right now. That's it, end of story." The truth of the matter was that the longer he ignored his father the easier it had become. The first few weeks were hard, everything in his mind telling him to pick up the phone, to answer when his father called. But he had stopped himself, forced himself to turn away from the man, to disappear. And now, well now it was the opposite.

Every time the phone rang his heart skipped a beat. He had spent weeks forcing himself not to speak to his dad, and now he found that he couldn't even force himself to answer the phone. Something inside him just made him stop, made him let the phone ring. He had let it go on too long, let himself fall too far, and he didn't want to face the consequence that awaited him on the other end of the line. It was just too easy to stay lost.

"What'd the message say?"

Dean rolled his eyes, apparently Sam didn't see staying lost in the same light. "Nothing. Just that he talked to you and he wanted me to call."

"Oh, ok."

"Why'd you talk to him, Sam?" He didn't mean for it to sound like an accusation, but it came out that way none the less. Sam had always been the first to disobey orders, the first to ignore a direct question. So, Dean found it a little strange that he was now the first to answer their father's call.

"I don't know. You just stormed out and the phone rang. I thought we needed help."

"We're fine. I can handle it."

"Yeah, sure."

"You didn't tell him where we are, did you?"

"No. I told him that if he was such a good hunter he should figure it out for himself."

"Yeah well, you should've told him we were fine and to leave us alone." Dean shifted on the bed, he wouldn't put it past their father to somehow manage to find them, especially now that they had a hunt to worry about.

"I tried that, he didn't seem to happy about it."

"Yeah well, that's his problem."

"You know, you can't hide from him forever."

"Yeah, I know. I just can't talk to him right now, Sam."

"Ok."

"What'd he want?"

"To make sure we were ok."

"That's a new one."

"That's what I said."

"I take it that's not what he wanted to hear."

"No, he sort of when off on me after that, and I hung up."

The two laid in silence for a few more minutes, both finally on the same page, falling into the comfort of each other's presence. It was them against the world, and nothing else. Both brothers knew that they were all they had, and maybe all they would ever have, and they both accepted that. They drew strength from each other, drew courage from the other's presence. It wasn't anything supernatural, wasn't anything to fight, it was just the way they were, the way they had been raised. All they needed was each other. If one fell then there was no doubt in anyone's mind that the other brother would be lost as well. That it was both or neither, and that was a reality few people other then the brothers were willing to accept.

"I didn't tell him, you know, about the Asura."

"Thanks."

"He's not gonna be mad at you. Well, not forever."

"Even you know you're lying."

"Yeah, I thought I'd give it a try though."

"Oh man, he's gonna be so pissed. I kind of hope he never finds us."

They both should have known better, both should have guessed. Whether it was Murphy's Law, coincidence or divine revenge neither brother knew, but it was something they really should start expecting. No sooner had the words left Dean's lips then the low growl of the truck rumbled past the window, the beast pulling to a stop in the spot beside the impala.

Dean closed his eyes in silent prayer before turning towards his brother, quiet eyes pleading for an answer, for a place to hide. Sam was immediately on his feet and heading towards the door, his brother moving back behind him as their father's footsteps crunched in the soft gravel just beyond their door.

Dean knew he couldn't deal with this, not now, not ever. He had battled ghosts and demons, gone head to head with Wendigos, and still come out on top. But none of that compared to this, compared to the fear that was quickly taking over his tired body. He had disobeyed orders, gone AWOL, hidden from their father, and refused his calls. Hell, any one of those things was bad enough on its own, but, put them all together and he was beyond screwed.

Sam stood strongly in front of his brother, a wall between him and the older man. He knew that there was really no reason to be afraid of their father, no need to physically protect Dean, but that still didn't stop him from doing just that. John would never raise a hand to either boy, both his sons knew that, but there were still so many other ways to hurt someone. And the younger Winchester knew that Dean would bare the brunt of all of them.

John had always been able to bend Dean to his will, to make the otherwise defiant man do anything he asked, follow every order without question. And he could only guess what defying those order had done to his brother. Dean's entire existence was based on two things: keep Sam safe, and follow orders. And he had failed on both accounts.

And suddenly Sam knew why his brother was hiding. It wasn't his fault, none of it, but Dean just wouldn't see it that way. In his twisted mind he had screwed up to the point where he was beyond forgiveness, and Sam would be damned if he let his irate father drive another nail into his brother's damaged soul.

The heavy pounding made them both jump, their eyes never leaving the door. Thump-thump, thump, thump-thump-thump, thump. Yup, it was their dad all right.

"Sammy, open the door!"

"How'd you find us?"

"Open the god damn door!"

Sam looked back at his brother, Dean's eyes wide and pleading before heading to the door, his mind racing as he unlocked it.

John burst into the room like a man possessed, his tired eyes scanning every inch of it, taking in the appearance of his two wayward sons. They were alive, thank god. No stab wounds, no limps, no bandages, good. They both looked beyond tired, and Sam, well, Sam looked like death walking, but there was no immediate threat to their lives. Good. He took two steadying breaths as he willed his heart to slow its beating, his fatherly fear quickly turning into trained anger.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He spat, turning towards Dean who, for all intents and purposes, looked like a deer caught in the headlights. _He's scared, good!_ John thought, _he should be._ "I asked you a question."

"There's nothing wrong with him." Sam spoke up, Dean still remaining frighteningly silent, his tense body shifting from one foot to the other like a scolded child.

"I was talking to your brother."

"And I'm talking to you." Sam's voice left no room for argument. He was answering for Dean whether their father liked it or not.

"Where the hell do you two get off ignoring me for two month?"

"Not fun is it? Be lucky it wasn't a whole, freaking year!"

"I was keeping this family safe, I was doing what I had to do to protect my children. I wasn't hiding like a coward."

"I'm sorry." Dean broke in, his voice quiet and forced.

"You're sorry? You see, I would expect this kind of thing from, Sam. But you? You disappoint me, Dean."

"I sorry, I just had a lot to work through, we were resting is all."

"You were resting. People are out there dying, Dean. You and you're brother, you have jobs to do. This isn't some freaking desk job, you can't just check out for weeks on end. You have a responsibility."

"Oh, can it." Sam broke in, his anger going through the roof. "You're the one that forced him to be a hunter in the first place. So don't go laying that crap about forgetting the job on him. And what's this about expecting me to ignore you?"

"As I remember it, you're the one that walked away from this family."

"I went to school!"

"You left! And now you're dragging Dean away with you."

"He didn't." Dean tried to interject, but his father and Sam were in full fight mode and he just didn't have to energy to stop it.

"Last I checked he's got a mind of his own."

"You know, until you came back he would never have disobeyed an order, never have not returned a call."

"Well then I guess it's a good thing I came back then, isn't it."

"Go outside, Sam. I need to speak to your brother alone."

Dean's head shot up, large eyes fixed on Sam. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't be the family punching bag any longer. He had tried to be strong for so long, tried to be perfect for everyone, but he just couldn't keep it up any longer. Life was pulling him down, drowning him with everything he had held onto so dearly. He always had to chose sides, always had to be strong, be something that his father and brother could lean against for support. He always had to be there, be together, be perfect, and he just didn't think he could do it anymore.

"No." Sam answered, still staring into his brother's troubled eyes.

"What?"

"Anything you have to say, you can say to both of us."

"Fine. Dean, what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know you wouldn't have ignored me without good reason. Now, the last place you were spotted was Wisconsin, hunting hodags. Which, by the way, I got to watch first hand on the Internet!" His voice registered barely controlled rage. He had taught them to be smart, to stay below the radar, and then found their life history on the Internet, complete with video.

"Dad, I didn't know they were following us."

"You mean you let two amateurs get the drop on you?"

"Dad."

"I saw the river, too."

"Dad, we fixed it, I swear."

"I know. I checked back a few weeks later and everything was gone, including my boys. So, what else happened?"

"Nothing." Sam spoke up, his eyes still staring daggers at his father. He knew that, if the older man kept pushing, Dean would eventually give in and if John was mad now, he was going to go postal if he knew the truth.

"I am speaking to your brother, Sam."

"Nothing's going on, Dad."

"Bull. You wanna know how I know that? Because I've been talking to Missouri."

John knew he had struck a cord when both his sons met eyes, the fear barely hidden below the surface. He hated what he was doing, hated putting his children in such a position, but he had to know the truth, had to know what was going on. He was their father and it was his responsibility to save them. But how could he when they were blocking him at every turn. What the hell had happened to them?

"Missouri?" They both replied in unison, knowing that things were now, indeed, completely out of their control. Sam had even felt her, seen her looking into his soul from miles away. He may not have known what was going on, but he now knew that it was far bigger then just him and Dean.

"She said she could feel you, Sam."

"How? I mean, she said before she had to be close." Dean asked, worried eyes still lingering on his brother. He had messed up even more then he thought, Sam's powers growing stronger then he could have ever imagined. And again, he had sat there and ignored it. He closed his eyes, willing his heart to slow, forcing himself to breath. It was all crashing down on him again, suffocating him, killing him.

"Dean?" Sam's voice sounded miles away, his father's rough hands feeling foreign on his shoulders. But still the world around him fell, still the liquid air seized in his lungs, stole away every ounce of oxygen his body possessed. And he just couldn't handle it anymore. He was tired of being a soldier, tired of always having to be perfect, tired of breathing, of caring, of hurting. He was just so tired of it all.

"Dean!" His father's voice cut through the rush, the pounding in his ears deafening as the world around him fell away even more. He had screwed up, messed it all up, and he was afraid that he wouldn't be able to fix it. "Dean!"

"I'm sorry." He barely whispered as he felt himself slid down to his knees, standing taking too much of his dwindling energy. "Oh god, I'm sorry."

"Dean, hey, Dean come on." Sam's frantic voice broke through the still growing din. But Dean couldn't see him, couldn't see anything besides the black haze that was clouding his blurring vision. It was all his fault.

"Sammy, I'm sorry."

"What the hell happened, Dean?"

"Stop yelling at him. Dean, come on, breath."

"Dean, you gotta tell me what's going on."

"Leave him alone."

"Dean!"

"Sammy was possessed." Dean bit out, his world still dark, lungs still burning as he tried to breath, tried to force himself back into the world.

"What!"

"He was possessed by the Asura. I didn't know, I'm sorry."

"But, that was almost six months ago. Are you telling me you're brother was possessed for five months!"

"I'm sorry. We didn't know. Neither of us knew."

"You didn't know. You figured out I was possessed after five minutes and you could tell something was in Sam for five months! What the hell were you doing, you're supposed to look after him." John shook his shoulders, Dean's head falling forward like a rag doll. How the hell had things gone so wrong?

"Would you just leave him the hell alone!" Dean could feel Sam push their father away from him, the older man's face so close that Dean could feel the warmth of his breath. The middle Winchester tried again to steady his breathing but to no avail, his tired and over worked body refusing to stop shutting down.

"You got rid of it, right?"

"No, I'm possessed right now. Dad, can we please talk outside?"

John blinked several times before looking into his young son's determined eyes. The seasoned hunter felt his heart break when he finally took in the scene before him. Sam was kneeling between him and Dean, his older son leaning heavily against the dresser, breathing fast and shallow as Sam held his shoulder. He took it all in and couldn't help but feel disgusted with himself. Sam was protecting Dean from him, shielding his broken brother from their own father.

He had been so worried about them, so in need of answers that he hadn't stopped to see what it was doing to his boys, what it was doing to Dean. He had been so afraid for so long, so worried that his children were gone that he hadn't been able to hold in his pent up fears when he found them. But now, now he saw the outcome of it all and he knew he would never be able to forgive himself. He did not deserve forgiveness, not in his mind.

And Dean, he was so broken, so shattered that John was actually afraid. He had never seen his son in so many pieces, had never seen him so completely wrecked. And he knew that it was his doing. He had expected too much out of the boy, relied on him too much for everything, and he had never once stopped to see what it was doing to his eldest son. But now he saw it, now he understood it all as he watched Sam pull Dean to his feet, watched him help him over to the bed, watched him calm his breathing, relieve his fears. He had pushed and pushed until he had finally broken his perfect little boy.

"Dad." Sam spoke again, though now his voice was softer. "Can we please talk outside."

"Oh god, Sam, I'm sorry."

"Let's go outside."

The two made their way outside, Dean left in the overbearing silence of the now empty motel room, none of the three noticing the twisted metal that had once been the motel's flatware.


	10. Chapter 10

_wow!! thank you all for the wonderful, wonderful reviews, i am so glad you all enjoyed the last chapter so much. i hope you enjoy this one as well. :)_

D: still not mine :-/

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 10

John took one more long look at Dean before Sam pulled the motel room door closed, effectively blocking him from his oldest son. What had he done? Where had everything gone so wrong? Dean was his son, his child. He was supposed to care for him, supposed to keep him safe, not scare him to the point of a panic attack. But that was just what he had done, and he had never felt so ashamed of himself in all his life.

And Sam, oh god Sam. He had been possessed for five months, and he wasn't there to help him. He didn't blame Dean, not for a second, there was no way that he could. That Asura was smart, hell, smart enough to nearly kill them all, and Dean had been left to deal with it on his own, left to face his little brother, to fight the man he was supposed to protect. And they had not called him, not even asked for help. Where had he gone so wrong? What had he possibly done to make his boys hide from him, to cut him out of their lives when they needed him the most? It just wasn't fair.

"Dad." Sam's voice was quiet and pleading, asking for the help John was so ready and eager to give. He had to keep them safe, had to make up for all the mistakes he had made over the last few months, hell over the last twenty four years.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"I think you should go." It was spoken quietly but it still held so much force, still blew the air right out of John's lungs. Sam wasn't asking for help, he was asking him to leave.

"What?" John jumped quickly from despair to anger, his temper rising as Sam stood coolly before him. How dare he ask him to walk away. How dare he ask him to turn his back on something that he swore he would fix.

"We can handle this hunt and, I think you should go."

"I'm not going anywhere, Sam!"

"You cant help us, Dad. Please, just let us deal with this on our own."

"From what I saw you two weren't dealing all that well." He knew he should be taking out his anger on himself, knew that Sam was only trying to help. But well, John didn't care about any of that. He had to get through to him, had to stay, and he didn't care how he did it.

"Yeah well, we were before you showed up."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Look, I don't want to fight. It's just..."

"What? It's just what?"

"I don't want you around, Dean, right now." Sam knew that his words were hurtful, knew that his father was trying, but that didn't matter. The only thing he could think about was helping Dean, and he knew that he couldn't do that with their father around.

"You don't really have a say in the matter."

"Yes, I do. I'm his brother."

"And I'm his father."

"He's afraid of you, Dad. Please, just let us work this out."

"I cant."

"Why not?"

"Because I can't just turn my back on my children. Not when they need me. Look, Sammy, I know I've screwed up, and I know I don't deserve a second chance. But please, don't shut me out, not now."

John knew he was pleading but at that moment he didn't care. He was losing his boys, and the harder he tried to hold onto them the further away they fell. And now Sam was telling him to walk away, telling him to just turn his back, and he knew that he couldn't do that.

He knew Sam was only trying to protect his brother, that he only had Dean's best interests in mind, but that still didn't make his words any less hurtful. Sam felt that he needed to protect Dean, needed to shelter his brother from their own father, and that was like a knife to the elder Winchester's heart.

_He_ wasn't supposed to be the darkness his boys saved each other from. _He_ wasn't supposed to be the evil that frightened his children. He was supposed to be their father, supposed to be their guardian, and he knew that he would have no reason to go on if he didn't have his children in his life.

"Dad, this is like your two-hundredth chance." Sam wasn't budging. He had heard it all before, listened to the same speech over and over again. And he knew that no matter what their father said, no matter how many times he promised to change, that he would always and forever be the same.

It wasn't that he didn't love them, no, Sam knew with all his heart that their father cared, it was just that he didn't know how to show it. And that was sometimes worse then not caring at all. Every time they fought, ever time their father was disappointed, Dean assumed that it was all his doing, somehow all his fault. And Sam was tired of watching Dean crumble beneath the weight of their father's love. He needed to take matters into his own hands, needed to stop waiting for Dean to save him. Because, he finally realized that it was Dean who needed saving all along.

"Sam!"

"He's hiding from you, Dad. I mean, what does that tell you? He doesn't want to see you, he can't handle it right now."

"If he can't handle seeing his own father then he can't handle hunting. Or looking after you."

"See, there you go again. Not even five minutes and you already took back everything you just said."

"Don't go there, Sam."

"Don't go where, the truth. You're killing him."

Sam couldn't help but gasp, his father's movements so strong, so unexpected that he could do nothing but stare at the man before him. John had grabbed him by the shirt collars, pushing him into the wall with such speed and force that his head nearly hit the wall behind him. He had never seen such anger in those dark eyes, never seen such fear, but he knew that he couldn't let it sway him, knew that he couldn't back down.

"How dare you."

"Dad. He can't handle it anymore. I mean, he's been a wreck since the accident, let alone what's happened over the last few months."

"He'll be fine."

"No, he wont." Sam's voice was even and calm, his words hard as ice.

They were losing Dean, he was losing Dean, and Sam was trying to pull him even further away.

"I want you both to go to Missouri's, now."

"We're on a hunt."

"I'll take care of it."

"No."

"Sam, this isn't up for debate."

"And what's Missouri supposed to do, tell me what I already know?"

"Sam, please. Just listen to me, just this once. You and you're brother are in no condition to hunt. Dean needs to rest."

"Fine."

"Ok, tell me about this hunt."

"Five people go missing ever five years from the campus library. It's been going on for over a hundred years, all over the country. We think one family's doing it."

"Ok, how many have gone missing?"

"Four."

"Timeline."

"Just about four days till the next."

"And after that."

"Well, when Martin Trater was alive we thought it was another five days, because that's when all the victims were found. But, we found out that that broke pattern, so really, we don't know."

"Ok, but someone is gonna go missing from the library in four days?"

"Yeah, between ten-thirty and eleven."

"Do we have any witnesses?"

"None that saw the abductions, but we were gonna talk to the last kid to see Megan Marshal."

"Name?"

"Trevor Nammen."

"All right. I want you to get your brother and head for Lawrence, asap. I'll be there in a few days time."

"Yes, sir."

"And, Sam. Straight there, no detours."

"Yes, sir."

John sighed as he watched Sam disappear back into the room, his sarcastic 'yes, sirs' doing little to quell the dread growing in the older man's heart. He needed Sam to listen to him, just this once. Something was going on here, something bigger then all of them, and it involved his children. He needed to know they were safe, hidden away, taken care of. That was all that mattered to the burdened man, the only thing in this whole world that his heavy heart needed. If his boys were safe, then nothing else mattered.

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Dean laid on his back on the bed, the angered voiced echoing through the paper thin door. But he just didn't care anymore, his aching body too tired to move, spinning mind too weak to intervene. He had tried to hold his small family together, tried to take everything they were onto his own shoulders so no one else had to deal with it, but even that had failed. And now, well now he just didn't have the energy anymore.

But, worst of all, was that he couldn't explain the overwhelming sense of panic and fear that his father's mere presence brought on. He was stronger then that, trained to be better then that, but he still hadn't been able to control himself, still hadn't been able to hide his fear. And his father could see that now, could see everything his older son really was.

_"He's hiding from you, Dad. I mean, what does that tell you? He doesn't want to see you, he can't handle it right now."_

_"If he can't handle seeing his own father then he can't handle hunting. Or looking after you."_

Dean willed them to stop, willed the walls to become thicker, the voices lighter, anything to make them less audible, to save him from having to listen to them fight. He had been right all along, knew exactly what their father would think of him after he found out what he had allowed to happen. He was a failure, not capable of hunting, not capable of looking after Sammy, not capable of anything, and his father knew that.

Dean rolled over onto his stomach, covering his head with a pillow, but still the voices made their way to his ears, still he was forced to be a fly on the wall during a conversation he hoped he would never have to hear. They were fighting about him, because of him and he knew that he had to do something about it, had to find someway to fix everything he had screwed up. This was all his fault, and therefore, it was his job to fix it.

"_You're killing him."_

"Oh, Sammy, shut up." Dean mumbled into the covers as he listened to his little brother dig his grave deeper and deeper. Their dad had been right, before Sam came back he never would have even considered defying an order, ignoring their father. It would have been like someone telling him to go skydiving. And Dean knew he would never, ever throw himself out of a perfectly good airplane. But, then again, he would never get into an airplane no matter what condition it was in, so that was that.

But now, ever since Sammy came back into his life, ever since he drove four days nonstop to Stanford, things had been different. His little brother had been different. He had shown him a life outside of their family, a life away from his father's rules and, to be honest, Dean had enjoyed it. Yes, he wanted them to be a family, and yes he missed his dad more then words could describe. But his time with Sam was something he wouldn't trade for the world. He liked it being just the two of them, the brothers Winchester. And now, he was terrified that he may lose that, may lose the one thing that was still keeping him sane.

_"I want you both to go to Missouri's, now."_

_"We're on a hunt."_

_"I'll take care of it."_

_"No."_

_"Sam, this isn't up for debate."_

_"And what's Missouri supposed to do, tell me what I already know."_

_"Sam, please. Just listen to me, just this once. You and you're brother are in no condition to hunt. Dean needs to rest."_

Translation, Dean screwed up. I need to keep him away so he can't mess things up anymore then they already are. And I need Missouri there to watch out for Sam. Oh yes, Dean knew his dad too well, knew exactly what the older man was thinking, even when John himself didn't. He had come here to fix things, to keep his son from making the situation even worse, and after that, Dean couldn't imagine.

What was gonna happen to him at Missouri's? What was going to happen to him after their father finished this hunt, when there was nothing left to distract him? Dean closed his eyes as Sam recounted all their information, closed his eyes as Sammy gave in. He really should have just driven away when he had the chance.

Dean didn't move when his little brother slipped quietly back into the room, their dad's truck rumbling away into the distance. He didn't want the younger man's pity, didn't want Sam to tell him that it would all be all right when he knew for a fact that it wouldn't. He didn't want to listen to his brother drone on about how much of a jerk their dad was, didn't want to listen to him complain about how much their lives sucked, about how he should have stood up for himself. He didn't want to hear any of it, just wanted to drift away into the darkness, go somewhere where he could not be found.

And so, his little brother's continued silence was strange to say the least. He could hear Sam shuffling around the room, but he made no attempt to talk to him. _He must be really pissed at me, too._ Dean thought. _Damn it, that's just what I need._ He laid there for a few more minutes, buried beneath the pillow while his brother moved about the room, fumbling with a duffle bag. After a few moments, Dean heard the door open again, as the sound of jingling car keys met his ears.

_Oh, great, he's leaving me here._ "Hey, Sammy."

He looked up to see Sam half out of the room, duffle in one hand, impala keys in the other. "Yeah."

"Where're you going?"

"Nowhere."

"Dude, I heard you and dad."

"Sorry." Sam replied sheepishly as he slowly began to pull the door closed again.

"Sam?"

"Look. It's safer this way."

"What's safer?"

"I'm sorry, Dean." And with that Sam pulled the door closed. Dean heard an odd scraping noise as he ran to the door, pulling it open with everything he had in him, but it wouldn't budge.

"Sammy!"

"Sorry, Dean."

"Sam, open the door." But instead of hearing the knob turn, instead of hearing that odd scraping noise again, he heard the impala roar to life and drive away. "Sam!" Dean tried the door again but to no avail.

"God damn it." He pulled a chair over to one of the high windows, trying to see what it was his brother was using to keep him inside. "Son of a bitch." Dean kicked the wall when he eyed the bungy cord, one end wrapped around the handle the other tired securely to a nearby pole. Dean knew that their room was far enough into the shadows that no one would see the cord, he cursed again before scanning the rest of the small space.

The only other window was in the bathroom and, like the high main room windows, it was too small for him to squeeze through. He was, embarrassingly enough, trapped in their motel room. Dean quickly pulled the cell from his pocket, hands shaking as he dial his brother's number. He had left him there. His little brother, had left him there.

"Hello."

"Where the hell are you going?" Dean didn't even try to hide the tremor in his voice, his mind racing a mile a minute.

"I'm going to the library."

"Oh."

"Why, where'd you think I was going?"

"Why the hell'd you lock me in?"

"Because, it's safer."

"What if I choked on an m&m and couldn't get out to get help?"

"That's stretching it, you know."

"Sam, come back here and get me."

"No. Look, I'm gonna try and do some recon before dad get's there, then I'll get you and we'll finish this hunt ourselves."

"Dad said to go to Lawrence."

"Screw dad. Now sit tight and don't do anything stupid."

"Dude, you can't go back there, remember last time?"

"I'll be ready for it this time."

"You sure?"

"Stop punching holes in my plan."

"Whatever, Sam, just don't hurt the car. Sam?" Dean tried again, but the line was suddenly dead. "What the hell?"

"Hello, Dean."

Dean spun on the spot, the voice so cold, so venomous that he could feel it reaching into him, wrapping around him. There before him was a girl about his age, her long hair flowing around her face, eyes wide and hungry, smile hideous and gaping. She laughed as she walked forward, her body slow and stiff, bulging eyes never leaving Dean.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Melinda, but you can call me Mellie."


	11. Chapter 11

_ok, so i'm sorry this took so long, my week was busier then i thought i would be. i will try to do better. thank you all so much again for the wonderful reviews, i am so glad you all like it. :) i heart you all. _

_this chapter is basically a set up for things to come so it is a little short. but dont worry, we are coming into the home stretch (well, about 6 more chappys so maybe not lol) and there will be action aplenty soon enough. :) enjoy the chapter, and let me know what you think. _

D: as always, this is just for fun.

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 11

Sam's mind raced as he drove to the library, the low growl on the impala's engine doing little to alleviate his growing tension. He couldn't believe what his father had done, couldn't believe what his mere presence had done to Dean. But really, he should have known. Dean had always tried to make himself perfect in the eyes of their father. Ever since they were children he had made it his job to never falter, never disobey. And Sam had no idea just what that loyalty had cost his brother. At least, not until that night.

He had never seen Dean so afraid before, never felt such raw emotion flowing from the usually stoic older man. He was supposed to be the strong one, the tough one, the glue that held their family together. And to see him that broken was like a knife to the young man's heart. He had relied on his brother so much over the years that he had come to see him as something more then human, something more then just a man.

He was Dean, there was no other way for Sam to describe him. He was his big brother, his protector, and his best friend. He was never afraid, never weak, never broken, because he was Dean and he just wasn't like that. He was his hero, and nothing less, and to see him like that shook the very foundations on which Sam stood.

And he was angry with himself for taking so much from him, for somehow refusing to see the man behind the mask, the true Dean. He had taken so much upon his young shoulders, given up so much for their family, and Sam just wanted to be able to give him something back, to give him a piece of the life he had given up so long ago.

The library cam slowly into view, the large brick building standing out quietly against the night, looking as innocent as all the buildings that surrounded it. Sam braced himself, knowing what had happened the last time he was there, feeling the emotions begin to flood into him once more, the voices echoing into his mind all over again. He tried to prepare himself for the onslaught, tried to push the voices and the fear to the back of his mind, focusing all his energy on the task at hand.

He could still feel them, still hear them, but the din was thankfully less overwhelming then it had previously been. Truth be told he wasn't sure if he would be able to face them all again, if he would be able to pull himself away from the pain and fear alone. They had wrapped themselves around him so completely the first time, dug so deeply into his soul that he was sure the pain would be there forever. But Dean had been there to save him, to pull him back from the edge of sanity and the younger man suddenly wished that he had allowed his brother to go with him.

Sam felt as though he were walking through a forest of shadows, the world around him falling away as the darkness crept into his very soul. It was so strong, so deafening, and so entirely familiar, because it was everything he felt and heard when the Asura was with him, everything that had attacked him as he searched for his brother along that lonely strip of highway. It was all connected, all a part of the same thing, and he knew that it was something he had to fight.

A piece of that demon had remained inside him, changing him. He could feel it in his bones everyday, something was different, something was off, and it scared him. He didn't know why it was still in him, couldn't understand why blessing his blood had not been enough, and he feared he never would. That thing was smart, and ancient. It had managed to survive through out all of time and the youngest Winchester was sure that some part of it would always be there, always be around.

After all, it had said that it was a buffer, that it pulled away all the despair and fear from the world, and Sam knew that something like that couldn't just vanish into the night. No, power that old was the type of power that lasted forever, in one form or another.

He continued to wade through the pool of emotions, his mind numb, body unfeeling as he pushed on. He had to find answers, had to end this hunt before another student went missing. He knew he should have just let him father handle it, knew he should have taken Dean and gone to Missouri's like his father asked, but he just couldn't let this one go. It was almost like something was calling out to him, telling him to stay, telling him to fight.

He smiled to himself as he walked, the haze that had over taken him slowly clearing as his thoughts drifted back to his now trapped brother. He wished he could have seen Dean's face when he bungied the door. Sam shook his head as he hid in the large library's shadows, the very thought of his brother calm and comforting, that was definitely something he wasn't going to live down.

Sam turned the corner slowly, eyeing his father's truck, the beast barely visible from the shadows. He knew he would have to be as quiet as he could, knew he would have to try and investigate the building without his father seeing him. He took a deep breath and began scanning the back of the building, the shadows haunting, air frighteningly still. He could feel the danger, feel the evil reaching out from the nearly impenetrable darkness.

But before he could take another step a sudden and instant pain erupted behind his eyes, so strong that it forced the young hunter to his knees. He tried to brace himself as the pain continued, pouring into him like hot wax, running over him until he was sure that his entire body was on fire. He didn't know where the pain was coming from, didn't know what was causing him so much agony, so much fear. The last thing he could remember was Dean, seeing the look on his face at being trapped. And again the pain took over tenfold, driving the young man further to the ground, his hands tangled in his hair as he leaned forward, trying to breath through the mind numbing pain.

It took him several minutes to realize that someone was holding him, the strong arms shaking him slightly as they gripped his shoulders. But Sam couldn't fight, couldn't even control his own body as he felt himself pitch forward, his head landing on the stranger's should, the voice calling out to him sounding so far away, lost in the ever growing darkness that had taken over his mind.

He could feel his energy draining, his body losing out against the onslaught. It was all so painful, so all consuming that he didn't know how to pull himself back from the ever encroaching shadows. And so slowly, against every instinct he had, he let himself drift off into the ever growing abyss, his tired mind shutting down as the voice finally broke through the attack.

"Sammy."

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John pulled up outside the old library, his tired body slumping back into the seat as he turned off the engine. This wasn't the way things were supposed to be and he didn't know how to fix it. His boys were broken and lost and it was all his fault. At that moment he wanted nothing more then to just pack them up and head to Missouri's, head for help like he had done so often when they were children. But they were now grown men and, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't just throw them in the back-seat of the impala and drive away from the evil.

He scrubbed his hand across his tired face, his heart sinking as he looked over at the large building. He just wanted this hunt to be over, something about it just didn't feel right. He couldn't place it but he just knew that there was something else going on, and all he wanted to do was get his children away from it. Whether it was hunter's instinct, the events of their last hunt together, or just plain and blinding fear John didn't know. All he knew was that he wanted his boys out of harms way.

He had sworn to himself all those months ago that he would never have to watch his children suffer, never have to comfort a dying son because help was just too far away. He had nearly lost Dean in that god forsaken forest, nearly lost him in both body and soul, and he had sworn that he would never let that happen again. And then he learned of Sam's possession by the same demon that had nearly destroyed his brother. It was all too much for the weathered hunter, his heart already broken beyond repair, battered soul already far older then its years. He had promised Mary that he would always keep them safe, and he had failed.

He pushed the thought aside, knowing that he had to finish this hunt before he could help his boys, knowing that he wouldn't get another chance at this for five years. He took a few steadying breaths before pushing himself from the car, a familiar rumble meeting his ears. He closed his eyes, as though praying for patients, before making his way around the building, watching as Sam climbed from the impala.

"Damn it." He whispered, still hidden in the shadows. He wished that once, just once, his son would listen to him. John continued to watch as his youngest wandered around the building, the boy before him shaking his head as though trying to free himself from something.

He was immediately concerned by Sam's behavior, the young hunter stumbling slightly as he pushed on, his eyes squinted against a headache. But what worried John the most was the fact that his son was alone. And he suddenly felt the guilt building in his heart once more. Had he really broken Dean? Had he really hurt him so badly that he was unable to hunt with his brother?

John shook the thought from his head when he watched Sam stumble again, his young son crouching back in the shadows, obviously trying to hide from him. John smiled a little as he made his way over to Sam. His sons should have learned by now that it was impossible for anything to stay hidden once John Winchester was on its tale.

Just as he rounded the corner he heard Sam gasp, his heart racing as he watched his youngest son fall to his knees, pain evident on his face. John raced forward, another cry of pain meeting his ears. He grabbed Sam by the shoulders, his eyes closed against the agony, head cradled in his shaking hands.

"Hey, Sam. Come on, son." John shook him softly, trying to get him to relax, to look at him, but the pain only seemed to grow stronger. And then, suddenly, Sam fell forward, his head landing on his father's shoulder as his body slumped into unconsciousness.

"Damn it." The senior Winchester's heart beat faster still as he held his son's lax body, Sam's breathing coming out in short, shallow gasps, the pain still evident on his face. "Sam? Sam, can you hear me?"

"Dad?" The voice was barely more then a whisper, but John heard it as clear as day. Sam's eyes were still closed, body still limp in his arms, but he was awake, fighting. "Oh god, dad, it hurts."

"Come on, we gotta get back to the car." John regained his composure as he pulled his youngest to his feet, Sam immediately falling forward into him, his tired body still over come with pain. "I'm gonna need you to try and help, Sammy. Can you walk?"

"Don't know."

"All right, just try for me, ok?" John coached as he draped his son's arm over his shoulder, his other arm tightening around his waist. It was slow, but still better then nothing and, after a few minutes, John had managed to half drag Sam over to the impala, sitting him slowly in the passenger seat.

"You still with me, Sammy?"

"Yeah." Sam managed to bite out, his eyes opening to mere slits. But the pain was still there, still pulling at him, still snaking its way into his heart.

He didn't understand. The last time that had happened the pain went away as soon as he moved from the library, but this time, well this time it really didn't seem to matter. The emotional pain as well as the voices had gone, but there was still the blinding agony radiating out from behind his eyes. It was like a vision only ten times worse.

"Is it a vision?" Sam smiled a little despite the pain. His father had never witnessed one of his visions, yet he still tried his best to understand them.

"No, I don't think so."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know." Sam suddenly sat bolt upright in the seat, his eyes wide and terrified. He couldn't understand where the thought had come from, but now it was washing over him like tidal waves. Dean, something was wrong with Dean. "Dad, we gotta go back to the motel."

"Why?"

"Please, something's wrong with, Dean."

"How do you know?" John nearly shouted, helping Sam the rest of the way into the car before running to the driver's side. His sons had a bond that very few people in this world possessed and, even though John didn't know what had triggered the sudden panic, he knew enough about his boys to trust Sam's instinct.

"I don't know. It's like I can feel him. Dad, you gotta hurry."

John didn't need any other explanation as he pushed down harder on the accelerator. He could figure out what was going on later, right now, the only thought in his mind was that he had to get to Dean.


	12. Chapter 12

_well, i survived. last night's episode nearly did me in, it was amazing. I would like to again thank you all for your wonderful reviews, they really do mean alot to me._

_on a more serious note: I just learned today of a young fan's passing (Lauren aka theZeppilinrox, from the Sn.tv message boards) and I would just like to send out my deepest respects to her family. _

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 12

John raced back to the motel, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding Sam's shoulder. He knew it really wasn't helping, knew there was nothing he could do to stop the pain, but, by god, he was Sam's father and he wasn't just going to sit there and do nothing. He pushed down harder on the accelerator when his young son moaned weakly, his head still held in shaky hands, eyes still closed tightly against the pain. John squeezed his shoulder again as the pain seemed to increase, Sam squirming in the seat, body folding in on itself.

The seasoned hunter's heart nearly stopped when he saw the blood flowing thick and heavy from his son's nose, the crimson flow quickly soaking his hands. And suddenly, as though someone had flipped a switch, Sam stopped moving, stopped moaning, his body falling back into the seat, head lolling to the side. The only sign of his internal torment came in the barely heard whisper that was his brother's name.

John cursed as he rounded the bend, the motel finally coming into view. This wasn't supposed to be happening. For months he had feared that his boys were alone, hurt, possibly dead. But he had vowed to find them, made it a point to see them again, and when that finally happened he was overjoyed to find them in one piece. But now, now Sam was laying unconscious in the seat beside him, blood still flowing from his nose while god knows what was happening to Dean. And it was all becoming too much for the senior Winchester to handle. He was supposed to keep them safe, and here they were, still slipping away.

The tires screeched in protest as John pulled into the spot by their room, his sharp eyes staring at the bungy cord for only a moment before moving to check on Sam. His youngest son was still out cold, but thankfully, the blood had finally slowed to a stop. He gingerly felt for a pulse, letting out a long breath when he found it, strong and steady. Just then Sam began to stir, his eyes sliding open slowly, pain filled face turning towards his father.

"You with me, Sammy?" John asked eagerly, knowing he still had to go check on Dean. Something was definitely not right. The night was too quiet, everything around him too still, too normal.

"Dad?" Sam answered weakly, his voice barely more than a whisper, eyes sliding shut once more. His entire head felt like it was going to explode. Every nerve ending was firing, ever spasm sending more and more pain coursing through his tense body. Something was wrong, something was so very, very wrong. He didn't know what it was, couldn't explain the feeling, all he knew was that Dean was at the center of it. He was hurt, Sam could feel it in his bones, and that thought sent another wave of agony through his body.

He barely heard his father's words, barely felt his strong hand on his shoulder. He was lost in a sea of the unknown, drowning in the overflow of his own mind. He needed his brother, needed to hear his voice, needed his presence to pull him back from the darkness. He needed Dean to save him, needed his strength to keep him standing when life seemed determines to push him down.

"Dean?"

"I'm gonna go get him, all right. Stay here."

"No, dad."

"It wasn't a request. I'll go make sure he's ok, then I'll come get you."

"He's not ok."

"Sammy, stay calm. I promise I will be right back."

John's heart pounded in his chest as he ran up to the motel room door, unhooking the bungy cord as quickly as he could before entering the small room. He didn't really know what he had been expecting to find on the other side, but what was there was definitely not it.

Everything was in its place, the room completely normal. The tv was off with the remote resting on top. The beds were as he had left them, the dresser still standing, lamps resting innocently on the tables. The boys' duffles were laying in the nearby corner, both untouched and neat, and a little light shown from the open bathroom.

Nope, everything there was perfectly normal, as ordinary as a motel room could be. There was no sign of a struggle, no blood on the floor or bullets in the wall, no bodies left strewn about. It was all the way he would have expected it to be, except for one glaring different. Dean was nowhere in sight.

"Dean?" John spun on the spot, his eager eyes scanning the room once more, knowing that he must have been wrong. But then, he knew that his eldest son wouldn't just magically appear, knew that there was not way to over look the six foot man in their little twenty by twenty foot room. And at that moment he felt all his resolve melt away.

He knew his eldest had not just gone out. No, he would have taken down the bungy, if for no other reason then to prove that he could still outwit his little brother. Sammy was right, something had happened to him, something bad. John sank to his knees, sure his heart was breaking. The headaches, Sam's powers growing, and now the mysterious disappearance of his son. It all added up to only one thing. The Yellow Eyed Demon had come to steal what was left of his shattered world.

He looked up when he heard the shuffling his tired eyes immediately falling on Sam, his young son propped up against the door jam. His skin was deathly pale, his brown eyes staring at him with unmasked fear as if screaming at him, pleading for an answer, for some kind of comfort, all while searching the empty air for his missing brother.

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Dean moaned as he tried to move his cold and aching body, every nerve ending feeling like it was on fire, his sore frame wracked by intense tremors. He was freezing. He slowly pushed open his moss green eyes, taking in the icebox of a room he had found himself in. It was obviously some type of cellar, though the room itself was barely more then a glorified closet. He laid there for several more minutes, trying to gather his quickly waning energy. He couldn't for the life of him figure out how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was seeing that creepy as hell girl in his motel room.

"God damn, Sammy." Dean mumbled, covering his eyes with shaky hands. But then, everything had happened so fast that he wasn't even sure an open door would have been much help. Truth be told he couldn't remember anything after that creepy girl had told him her name. He didn't even know if he had put up a fight or how the hell she had even managed to get into his room in the first place.

His thoughts were cut short, however, when the unmistakable sound of a key entering the lock filled his ears. He struggled to pull himself to his feet, letting out a low moan when he realized that his legs were not working the way they should. He tried again as the heavy door began to creek open, but it was not good. Whatever she had used to knock him out had turned the lower half of his body into jelly.

All he could do was pull himself back along the icy floor as the figure entered the room, her long hair covering her stark white face. She was still smiling, still staring down at him like he was her new puppy and he couldn't help but shiver as her large and empty eyes scanned his body. She slowly closed the door behind her, smile growing even wider as she watched the man before her scoot further back along the floor, his back and shoulders meeting the wall as she neared him.

Dean cursed beneath his breath when he slammed into the too close wall, the freakish woman still staring at him. The air around him grew colder as she made her way across the room, kneeling beside her shivering prey. He heard her soft laughter ringing in his ears when he tried to move away again, only to find himself trapped in the corner like some kind of caged animal.

"Hello, Dean." Her hollow voice chimed as she moved over to him, her icy hand caressing his face, tracing over the scars the Asura had left behind. He closed his eyes, willing away the touch, his half working body trying to pull away from her. But there was nowhere for him to go.

She slowly pulled back her hand when she saw his eyes close, her smiled growing even more. She liked playing with him, liked having him there at her disposal. It was fun. She eyed him again for a moment before touching her hand to his T-shirt clad chest, satisfied when he shrunk away as though someone had just covered him in ice. Confident that he was no threat to her she slowly stood, moving back towards the door.

"You know." She smiled, turning back to Dean, his eyes open to mere slits. "For a hunter, you were pretty easy to catch."

"Yeah well. You broke pattern a little now didn't you." He tried to sound cocky, tried to sound strong, but the truth of the matter was that he was beyond cold. The room had to be near forty and there he was in boots, jeans, and a thin T-shirt. Add to it all the freaky girl's hands of ice, plus whatever she had used to knock him out in the first place, and Dean was far from fine. But he still stared her down none the less, still let her know that her time on this earth was nearing its end.

"Isn't it supposed to be every five days?"

"Yes, but then, you are not our sacrifice."

"Huh?"

"You are not our sacrifice." She stated again, as though talking to a child.

"Then why am I here?"

"Our father told us of a soul, one powerful enough to end this."

"End what?"

"Our curse. Two hundred years ago a terrible witch cursed our family, forcing us to sacrifice to her every five years."

"Sucks to be you."

"Yes." She said, and Dean was taken aback at how sad she suddenly sounded. "It does. I did not chose to be born this way. My ancestor made a mistake, and his entire family has had to pay for it. But it could all end."

And suddenly everything thing fell into place like a crashing freight train. "You can't have him."

Mellie's smile only grew wider, her eyes hungry with the knowledge that her life of torture could soon end. "We deserve him."

"You deserve to rot in hell."

"Don't you understand, Dean? It could all end. Our family's curse, all the killings, it could all end. All we need is just one more soul. Just one life for countless others."

"No. You can't have him."

"We can and we will. He will come for you."

"He doesn't know where I am."

"Oh, but he does. That's how my father felt him. He is like a lighting rod, pulling all the terror of our lives towards him. He doesn't know it, but he is so strong, so powerful, and your soul is tied to his. He will come for you."

"My soul isn't tied to anyone." Dean spat, the absolute absurdness of the idea running over him.

"I don't know how, but he can feel you, sense you. You have no idea the power that he possesses. It's just one life, Dean."

"It's Sam's life."

"But it will be given for a greater purpose. He will save lives."

"I've got an idea. Why don't you two just stop."

"And die? Watch as our blood boils in our veins, as our organs disintegrate within our molding skin?"

"Ew, that was an image I didn't need."

"We are the last of our family."

"And Sam's the last of mine."

"I'm sorry, Dean. I know you did not chose this life, but I didn't chose mine either. Would you not do anything, give up anything for your family?"

Dean didn't answer, his jaw clenched so tight he could have sworn he had chipped his teeth. Of course he would have done anything for his family, and he, as sick as it was, understood this sad girl's point of view. But there was no way he was going to let her know that.

"Your brother will be ours, Dean. Like I said, it's your family or mine."

"And what if he doesn't show in time? You only got four days, right."

At that she only smiled, Dean faltering beneath her gaze. "Well, there's always plan B."

"And what's plan B?"

"You. Sam is strong enough to end this all. But, if worse came to worse, we still have you." And with that she disappeared out the door.

Dean scrubbed his hands over his tired face as he was once again left alone, his tired and torn mind reaching out for the only thing it could. '_Sammy.' _


	13. Chapter 13

_thank you all once again for the great reviews, the really make my day. i am so glad you are all enjoying the story. :)_

D: dont own them.

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 13

John knelt there, his entire world lost, taken away in the blink of an eye. Nothing in his life mattered if he didn't have his children. Even when it appeared as though he had forgotten them, abandoned them, they were still at the very center of his universe. And a world without Sam and Dean was a world without John as well. It was hard enough to carry on after Mary had passed, hard enough to push through all the darkness for even the smallest hint of light, and he knew that, without his boys, there would be no reason to fight the shadows.

"Dad?" Sam's voice was so pain filled that it made his father's heart break all over again. His children were breaking into pieces right in front of him, scattering off into the distant winds to places he knew he could not follow and it wasn't fair. Parents were not supposed to lose their children.

"He's gone, Sammy." John looked up into his son's shinning eyes, wishing he could tell him something different, wishing he could set their troubled lives straight. They deserved more than a life of fear, needed more than constant worry to keep them going, more than repeated failure to tuck them in at night. His boys deserved a real life, and John was afraid that it was something they would never find.

"Oh god." Sam moaned as he slid to the floor, his eyes clenched tight against a new wave of pain. John paled even more when he saw fresh blood seeping from his son's nose, Sammy a lot paler than was healthy.

And, in that moment, John broke completely. Whatever was happening to Dean was effecting Sam, badly, and the senior Winchester had no idea how to stop it. And then a sudden terror ran through his body with such force that he was sure be would burst into flames. The true reality of what he was now facing was enough to drown him, kill him right there where he sat. He didn't know how it had happened, didn't know why it had happened, all he knew was that, somehow, Sam's life had become completely reliant on Dean's.

It was like being hit by a freight train, everything in him gone in an instant. He wouldn't allow it, couldn't allow it. Whatever was happening to his boys, whatever powers were growing between them had to be stopped, had to be severed. He didn't understand and at that moment he didn't want to, all he knew was that he couldn't lose them both, not after he had finally found them again.

"Sammy. Hang in there, buddy." John spoke softly as he took his youngest son's face in his hands, Sam's eyes opening to mere slits at the sound of his father's voice.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. Can you see him in a vision?" John was grasping at straws and he knew it. But at that moment he didn't care, all that mattered was finding his son.

"No vision." Sam bit out, closing his eyes once more. "I only have visions when the Demon's around."

"Sam, your powers are growing, it all points to the Demon."

"No. I can't explain it, I just know it's not him."

"Sam."

"No, dad. It's not the Demon, this is all different."

"Different how?"

"I... It's more like the Asura. Like when it was trying to take my soul, it feels the same."

"But the headache?"

"Yeah, that still has me stumped. But I think I can fight it." Sam mumbled, his voice growing stronger by the minute.

And, in that instant, John was beyond amazed, the strength of will that his young son was showing surprising the seasoned hunter. He knew Sam was strong, knew both his sons were fighters, but this was something all together different, and he couldn't help but stare in awe at his little Sammy.

"Come on." John began, pulling Sam to his feet and guiding him over to one of the beds, the young hunter still massaging his temple. John could tell that, even though he was fighting, his youngest son was still in a tremendous amount of pain. Yes, they had to find Dean, but they had to get Sam well first. "You rest, I'm gonna call, Missouri."

"No, Dad, we should look for Dean."

"Do you know where he is?"

"No." Sam answered back sheepishly, feeling beyond lost. It was like he was falling into an abyss of white hot pain, and fear. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him, calling out for his brother, searching the cosmos for Dean. He had to find him, had to keep him safe, keep him whole, it was the only thing his battered mind could comprehend. But his dad was right, they had no idea where he was, hell, they didn't even know where to start looking.

"I didn't think so. Look, Sammy, we're gonna find your brother, I promise. But I can't have you collapsing all over the place. I can't do this alone, Sam. I need your help."

Sam's head snapped up, eyes fixed on his father. '_I can't do this alone.'_ It was the exact same thing Dean had said to him two years and a life time ago. He couldn't do it alone. That statement had made him look at his brother in a new light, and now it had done the same for his father.

All his life Sam had seen them as the unbreakable heroes, the two people that not even death could stop. But now the reality of what his family was came crashing down upon him. They were brave, they were strong, they were heroes, but, they were also nothing more than human.

"Ok." Sam breathed as he laid back on the bed, his head still feeling like it was going to explode.

"Thank you, Sammy." John squeezed his young son's shoulder before heading out the door, dialing Missouri's number as he walked.

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_The room was frighteningly dark, and oh so bone chillingly cold. They were the only two things his mind could focus on at the moment. He didn't know where he was, but he did know that it was probably a place he didn't ever want to be. He walked around the small frozen space, his eyes trying to adjust to the heavy darkness. There was something there, he could feel it, something that needed to be found. _

_All at once the darkness lifted, revealing the prison he currently found himself in. And there, barely recognizable on the floor in the corner, was his brother. Sam's eyes grew wide in horror when he saw Dean, the older man's body shaking in the cold confines of the small room, his eyes shut against some invisible pain. _

_Sam ran to his ailing brother's side, knowing there was nothing he could do for him. He was trapped in some kind of twisted dream, something somewhere between a vision and reality. He knew it wasn't like a normal vision, but he still couldn't figure out how to describe it. He was seeing things that had already happened or were in the process of happening. It was almost like his mind was wandering, like some part of him was being sent out, called to that frozen place. _

_It was the same feeling he had when he witnessed Megan Marshal's death, the same sense of loss and helplessness. But that didn't stop him from kneeling beside his older brother's still body, trying with everything he had in him to comfort him, to try and save him. And he was both alarmed and relieved to discover that he could actually touch his brother, his shaky hand tracing the scars on his face. _

_"Sammy?" Dean breathed out when he felt his brother's touch, his eyes opening to mere slits as he searched his frozen prison. _

_Sam could feel the headache beating once again behind his eyes as his brother's fear and consciousness rose. And finally, he understood. It was Dean that was causing his pain, Dean that was somehow dragging him to him. He didn't know how it was happening, and frankly he didn't care. All that mattered to the younger Winchester was that, finally, his powers could be used to save the one person he had always wanted to. _

_"I'm here, Dean." But his brother didn't seem to hear him, his body only trembling more as the unmistakable sound of a door creaking open filled the room. Sam looked over to the entrance, his brown eyes momentarily meeting the hollow eyes of Mellie, the girl's face twisting into a sinister smile before everything was lost to a wave of agony. _

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John scrubbed his hand over his tired face as he listened to the ringing, waiting for his friend to answer the phone. He didn't know whether to be relieved or worried when Sam had told him that this was not the Yellow Eyed Demon's work. Yes, he was grateful that it wasn't here, knowing that he still could not defeat it. But well, how the hell did Sam know, what kind of connection did that monstrosity have with his sons? And secondly, where the hell was Dean? It was unnerving to say the least, and he hoped against hope that his long time friend would have the answers he needed.

Five... Six... Seven... Eight rings. "What the hell?" John mumbled as the phone continued to ring, his heart beating faster and faster with each mocking chime.

"John." Her quiet and forced voice sent immediate alarm coursing through the hunter's body. Everything was falling apart around him and now the one person he could rely on for help sounded just as broken as he did. He closed his eyes, trying to take a calming breath before continuing. Missouri, however, spoke first. "Please tell me you found them."

"Yes, they're here. In a manner of speaking."

"What the hell do you mean 'in a manner of speaking'? Where are they?"

"In Ely, Minnesota, on a hunt. Sam went to check out the area and had some kind of psychic attack, and now Dean's missing."

"Oh god, is Sam all right?"

"No, he's got a migraine and his nose is bleeding. What the hell's going on, why did it take you so long to answer the phone?"

"Oh god, John, it was so painful. Where are they now?"

"I just told you, I don't know where Dean is."

"I heard you, were the hell is Sam?"

"He's in the motel room."

"What?"

"Missouri, what's going on?"

"I don't know. I could feel him, sense his restlessness. And then, all the sudden, he was gone."

"What do you mean, gone?"

"Like, there was no more, Sam. I couldn't feel him, John, not even a little."

"What!"

"Wait. He's back."

Whatever John was going to say was lost when his young son's pain filled scream echoed out into the still night air. The gut wrenching sound stole the breath right out of his lungs, his mind racing, reeling as he ran back into the room. Sam was laying on the bed, his eyes open and unseeing, body held taunt as though in a seizure. But his bone rattling screams told his father that he was still very much awake and aware.

The seasoned hunter dropped to his knees as Sam continued to scream, Missouri's voice rising up from the phone he still held tightly in his hand. "Sammy, Sammy, please answer me." John pleaded, dropping the phone onto the bed as he gripped his son's shoulders, trying in vein to snap him out of whatever hell he was trapped in.

The blood was once again flowing down Sam's face, but the sound of his voice seemed to be helping as the young man before him finally stopped screaming, his eyes closing as tears streamed down his cheeks. John let out a breath he didn't know he was holding as he leaned his head down, resting his forehead against Sam's, praying to anything that would listen to save his boy from the pain.

He didn't know how long he had laid there, Sam trembling beneath him, mumbling his brother's name over and over again. It could have been several minutes or several hours before the sound of Missouri's panicked voice reached his ears, her frantic shouts ringing through the discarded cell phone.

"John!... John!... John!"

"Missouri."

"Damn it, John, why the hell weren't you answering me! What happened?"

"I don't know, Sam was having some kind of fit or something. It was like something was attacking him."

"Is he all right?"

"He's out of it. He's keeps calling out for, Dean. And before, when we were at the library, he got a headache and kept saying that, Dean, was in trouble."

"John, I don't know what's happened, but somehow those two are connecting to each other, and it's not good. You gotta find some way to help Sam deal with it or it's gonna kill him."

"What can I do?"

"I don't know, try and talk him through it. See if you can get him to focus on something other than the fear."

"The fear?"

"That's all I'm sensing from him, John. Just fear. You gotta find some way to keep him together."

"What about, Dean?"

"I'm sorry, John, but I don't feel him anymore."


	14. Chapter 14

_hello everyone. first of all, thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews, they really do mean alot to me._

_also, i am sorry this took so long, i had a little family emergance. my little sister has a heart problem and she went to the hospital with pains in her left arm. well, turns out it was inflamed tendons (fwh) but, needless to say i was very stressed out._

D: well, according to verizon wireless i just bought sam and dean for $1.99. but, somehow, i dont think that counts.

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 14

_"I'm sorry, John, but I don't feel him anymore.'_

The words hung there like a curtain, cutting off the only real link he had to his eldest son, the only real thing he had to depend on. His mind swirled with a hundred different possibilities, each one as gut wrenching as the next, all ending with the loss of one of his precious children.

In mere moments his world fell down around him like a crumbling sandcastle. Sam lay there before him, unstoppable pain running through his young body, stealing away his already tested strength, and Dean. Dean was gone, missing, possibly forever. And suddenly, John couldn't find the strength, couldn't see the light through the never ending darkness that had descended upon him like a predator to its prey.

It had been nearly six hours since he had gotten off the phone with Missouri, nearly six hours since Sam had fallen unconscious beneath him. And, as far as John was concerned, it had been nearly six hours of hell. Sam was now lost in a fitful rest, his brother's name the only thing he had said since his pain filled scream had shattered the quiet night. Everything had spiraled so far down that John didn't even know which way was heaven and which was hell. Everything he had known, everything he had believed in was shattered, lost to the very thing he fought.

Something was growing inside Sam, stealing away his son, leaving something supernatural in its wake. It was all becoming too much for him, the minute hand of the clocked counting down like some kind of twisted doomsday machine. Every minute that passed was another minute lost to his children, another moment he would not be able to spend with them. And the worst part of all was that he knew there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn't wake Sam, and there was no trace of Dean at all, not even the smallest clue to point the hunter in the right direction.

John stretched his back as he stood, making his way over to the coffee pot. He had been standing vigil over his ailing son for the last six hours, waiting for any movement, any sign that he was still with him, that he hadn't been lost to the darkness that was trying to steal him away. The seasoned hunter looked once more at Sam before going into the kitchen, the boy before him looking far more worn than any twenty-four year old should. His skin was deathly pale, but his heartbeat and breathing had finally evened out. He was fighting something, of that he was certain, but what, John had no clue.

The idea that there was something growing in child, something dark and sinister was just more than he could bare. Sam was kind, he was caring, he was something good in this world, and the idea of something in him, taking him over, changing him, just wasn't right. And the fact that Dean was somehow tied to it was terrifying. What could possibly have happened? What could the Asura have done to leave the boys like this? It was a question John had found himself asking over and over again since leaving the library. How in the world had they become connected on that level? And what the hell was Sam shielding his brother from?

He was certain that that was what was happening. It was the only thing that really made any sense. Yes, Missouri could feel Dean, but not like Sam. It was almost as though Dean was lost in the power if his brother's soul, hidden away behind the strength that Sam possessed. And the fact that Sam's psychic attack only intensified when Dean went missing was all the added proof the elder Winchester needed. Something had happened to not just Sam, and it had created a barrier that was now blocking him from saving either of his children.

John took and long, slow draught of the hot liquid as he scanned the room, his tired eyes trying to look at anything other than his now fragile child. He was about to move back to his seat when something on the counter caught his eye.

"What the hell?" He mumbled, picking up the twisted remains of what was once a spoon. He studied it along with the rest of the flatware, his mind trying to come to grips with what he was seeing. He knew that his boys had chosen one of the cheaper motels in town, but there was no way that the utensils looked like that before they took up residence.

He looked around the room once more, wondering if it was something left behind by Dean's attacker, like some kind of twisted clue, no pun intended. But that just didn't make much sense. Why in the world would someone kidnap Dean and then bend up the flatware? And reluctantly John's tired eyes finally fell on the one thing in the room that could have done this, the one person he knew that had the to power to perform such an act.

Finally everything clicked. It had happened when he first arrived, when Sam had physically blocked Dean from him. He probably didn't know what he had done, the TK a result of his emotions and adrenaline, but he had done it none the less. And suddenly, John was afraid. If merely sheltering Dean from a shouting match had done that, then what would happen if his life was in real danger? What would Sam's powers become when truly put to the test?

"Dad?" John was pulled from his thought by his son's weak and forced voice, Sam's eyes fluttering open as he approached.

"Hey, Sammy, how're you feeling?" John asked as he sat on the bed. Sam's eyes searched the room for a moment before landing on him, the brown orbs still full of pain but thankfully more focused.

"My head still hurts." He mumbled, his voice low and raspy. "Oh god." He hissed, quickly closing his eyes as another wave of pain shot through him.

"Hey, Sam, come on, look at me." John coached gently as he took his young son's face in his hands, forcing him to look at him. At that moment the seasoned hunter wanted nothing more than to just take away the pain, absorb it, anything to keep it away from Sam.

"Hurts, Dad."

"I know, but you gotta get through it, ok?"

"Can't."

"Yes you can."

"Dean. Dean's hurt, you gotta get him."

"Sammy, I can't help Dean till I know you're ok. Now come on, focus on me, focus on the room."

"He's so cold. We gotta get him now."

"Do you know where he is?"

"No, but I saw someone with him."

"What do you mean you saw him? You haven't left this room, son."

"I know, but I still saw him."

"Like a vision?"

"No, I can't explain it, but she's hurting him."

"Who? Who's hurting him?"

"Mellie Trater."

"I though they only took people from the library? And we still have four days?"

"I don't know why it changed, I just know that they have him." Sam managed, his voice growing stronger as he spoke. He could still see his brother, still feel the bone numbing cold of his prison, but he could feel the warmth of the motel room now, too. He continued to listen to his father's voice as it echoed to him, anchoring him to the safety he now felt. But he couldn't let go of the pain, couldn't let the image of his big brother, cold and terrified on the stone floor, be erased from his mind.

"Please, Dad, we have to get him."

"We will, Sammy, we will."

"Now, we have to go now."

"No, right now you're gonna lie still."

It was like someone had thrown a switch. Sam's eyes opened quick and wide, all traces of pain gone as he slowly stood, staring down his father. John couldn't help but take a step back, his son's immediate change frightening. And, in that instant, the boy before him was not longer Sam. He could see it, maybe not with his eyes, but that didn't matter. His youngest son was different, and it was alarming.

"Sam, you're still not well." John tried to reason with his son, tried to calm down whatever it was that was taking him over. But nothing seemed to work as the lights began to flicker and blink, the flatware rattling on the kitchen counter. And suddenly, the senior Winchester's fears were brought to the surface once more. Dean was in danger, and it was taking over Sam.

"I'm well enough."

"Ok, Sam." John finally relented, hoping against hope that he was doing the right thing. Missouri's words still thundered in his mind, his fears growing as her voice echoed once more. They were connected, and it was killing Sam. He knew he should try and stop his youngest, knew they had to figure out what was going on, but Dean was in danger, and that trumped all. If Sam could use his powers to find his brother, then so be it. John just hoped that both his boys would be able to survive.

He could feel the tension in the room release as Sam slowly sat. It was almost like he knew that he needed help finding his brother, like some still coherent thought was running through his mind, bringing back shadows of the old Sammy. After all, guns blazing was Dean's M.O.

"Do you have any clue where he is?"

"A room in a cellar I think. It was all stone and freezing."

"How'd he look?" The look in Sam's eyes spoke volumes to his father, John immediately turning away. It was bad, of that he was now certain.

"He's freezing to death, Dad."

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The library was empty in the early hours, Sam smiling as he remember that most of his friends refused to wake before noon. He found it strange that he could still remember college, that he could still feel the same happiness he had when he was there. It was almost like he had been invited to live someone else's life, and he relished the memories. But, they were just that, memories. There was nothing for him there now, nothing but the sad shadows of what he had once been allowed to have.

He thought he could go back, thought he could hunt the Demon and then return to normal. Yes, Jessica's death had destroyed him, but it hadn't erased his dream of normal. But now, after the yellow eyed Demon and the Asura, that dream was obliterated. He wasn't normal, and he now understood that.

He was something powerful, something part supernatural, and it was something that the apple pie world he dreamed of had no place for. Yes, he may still find happiness, may still find some semblance of normal, but it would never be in the halls of college, never be in the echoing realms of a court room. That life was lost the night the Asura had tried to take his brother, the night he had given it all away for Dean's soul.

He watched as his father cracked open another book and felt a strange calm take him over. He was different, but he suddenly found himself accepting that. And it was all because of Dean. He had sheltered him from everything, given him everything, and the only thing he had asked for in return was company. And Sam suddenly understood just how wise his brother really was. While Sam searched for success, searched for the 'American dream' Dean held on to his family, and for that Sam was grateful. After all, it was that simple love, that need for family, that had saved the youngest Winchester's soul.

"What the--." John jumped when the book he was reading slammed closed, his tired eyes falling on his son.

"Sorry." Sam answered sheepishly, rubbing at his forehead. The headache had not lessened, but he pushed past it anyway, needing to be strong when they finally found Dean. His TK, well, that was another story all together.

Every time something happened to Dean, every time his brother flinched in either pain or fear, Sam's powers jumped as well. So far, he had managed to nearly drive them off the road, almost break his father's nose with the door, and had now slammed three books in his face.

"We'll find him, Sammy. We still have a little over three and a half days."

"They broke pattern once already."

"I don't know why they did that, but I don't think that has anything to do with the ritual. I'm guessing that it's their deaths that really matter."

"Thanks for the comforting words."

"I'm serious, Sam, we'll find him. Now, it would help if you opened a book instead of constantly slamming mine shut."

"I'm sorry, I can't control it. It's like every time something happens, bam."

"How do you think it's happening, Sam? I mean, what the hell did that Asura do to you?"

Sam quickly looked down at the floor, the memories of the lives his powers had taken overwhelming him. He could still smell the fire, still hear the tires screeching and the crunching of metal. Children had been killed that day, innocent lives taken by something he couldn't fight, and he wished he had been stronger, been better.

"Sam?"

"It used my powers to kill. It said that it was bound to me because we blessed the land. It was still using my powers and my strength when I blessed my blood."

"So, apart of it is still there?"

"Yeah, I guess, but it isn't demonic anymore. I mean, Dean even Christoed me and it didn't do anything."

"Missouri said that it was like something was magnifying your powers. She also said that something like an Asura can't be killed, that it pulls negative energy away."

"Yeah, it does, that part of it is still there. It must have something to do with the death visions. I mean, now I can hear people and feel their pain. And when it is really strong, it turning into some kind of weird dream."

"Like a vision?"

"Kind of, but I can't do anything about it. It's like I'm walking through memories, just what's left after something horrible has happened. That's what it was like before when I saw Megan Marshal die."

"Was Megan in the same place as Dean?"

"I guess, but I still can't tell where. She was in a bigger room and Mellie's sister and her father's spirit were there. But, other than a cellar, I've got nothing."

"Could you feel Megan's pain?"

"No. It was weird. When I watched Megan die I couldn't move, couldn't do anything. It was like I was frozen, watching. But with Dean, I could talk to him, I could touch him. It was like I was there, not just watching."

"Sam think, did anything else happen with the Asura, anything that could explain this?"

"No--." Sam's eyes suddenly grew wide, his gaze falling on his father. The Asura hadn't done anything, but he had. "Oh god, I forgot."

"What, what did you forget?"

"Uh, the Asura said it could feel Dean, that it had been sensing him since he was a kid."

"Yeah?"

"Well, I figured that if the Asura could use my powers then I could use its. I kind of taped into it I guess and tried to reach out for Dean."

"Did it work?"

"Yeah, I could feel him, reach out to him, even when he was miles away. Dad, I was still doing it when I cut myself."

And suddenly, painfully, it all made sense. The Asura had released something inside of Sam, strengthened his already present powers, but the rest was all his youngest son's doing. He had been afraid, lost, alone and he had reached out for the one person that could help him, molded his soul with that of a demon so he could call out for help. And now the demon had been destroyed without severing that link, leaving a bridge between his children, a bridge that could destroy them both.


	15. Chapter 15

_Thank you all so much for the reviews and for the kind words. i had a very stressful week last week but thankfully, everyone is alright. I am so glad you are all enjoying the story. only three chapters left after this one, so hang in there. :) as always let me know what you think._

D: this is still just for fun.

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 15

The windows of the old abandoned house rattled and shattered as Sam cursed. He was beyond frustrated, his headache making it hard to think straight. They had been searching for over two days now, their trepidation and disappointment growing with each empty property. And Sam couldn't help but feel like a failure all over again. He had not only seen his brother, he had felt him, but now that didn't seem to matter in the least. He thought he could finally use his powers to help his brother, to save the man that had saved him countless times, but apparently, he was wrong.

"Sammy, calm down." John snapped, his own temper spent. They had started out with so much time, nearly four days, but those days had slipped away from them faster then they thought possible. And now, well now they were down to thirty two hours, and they could feel every second as it ticked by.

They were loosing, and Dean was paying the price. Sam knew he was still in pain, could feel the fear rolling off of him, his big brother's strength draining. But he hadn't been able to see him again, his short glimpse the only clue they had to go on. And that clue was proving to be sadly insufficient. They needed to know more, and they needed to know now.

"Sorry." Sam mumbled as they walked back to the impala, the car feeling empty without Dean behind the wheel.

Ever since they were little Dean had referred to the impala as his car, even when he was still far to short to reach the pedals. It was like laying claim to the family estate, everything that was and would be the Winchesters was passed to his big brother through that car, and Sam wouldn't have had it any other way. But now, without the charismatic, often annoying man within its confines, the classic machine just felt wrong.

He shook off the feeling, telling himself for well over the hundredth time that he would find his brother, that he wouldn't let the older man down. After all, Dean had never given up on him, even when all the cards were stacked against him. He had always somehow managed to come through, to save a day that had dawn un-savable, and physics and reality be damned if they got in his way. It was just something else that added to the mystery that was Dean, and Sam wasn't about the let his brother's role in this world end in that cold town.

He scrubbed his hands over his face as John started the engine, both looking the abandoned building over one last time before pulling away. That had been the last property on their list, their research having narrowed the playing field only slightly. In reality, the only thing they had to go on was the fact that Dean was in a dark, cold, cellar like room. And really, that could be anywhere.

They had even interviewed Trevor Nammen but he'd turned out to be less than helpful. According to him, Mellie didn't live anywhere, just hung out at the library and had never been seen elsewhere, and he had never even heard of her sister. She was just the weird girl that had somehow turned into a campus legend, no one really understanding just who and what she actually was.

The car lurched to the side as Sam cursed again, his forehead feeling like it was about to explode. They were missing something, but what, he just couldn't figure out. First off, as far as he could tell, this was the first time the family had broken pattern. The abductions had always been five days apart, up until Dean that is. Also, all the victims had always disappeared from the same area, be it a library, Laundromat, or whatever, the timing and place had always been consistent. So why take is brother from the motel four days early? It all had to mean something, but what, Sam had no idea.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't realize they had stopped until his father tapped on the passenger side window, the motel looming before him. He didn't want to go back in there, didn't want to face his own incompetence. If he had just stayed as his father had ordered, had he just brought Dean with him, none of this would have happened. But no, he had to ignore his dad, he had to be clever and lock his brother in the room. It was all his fault, and now he couldn't even figure out how to find his big brother.

"It'll be ok, Sammy. We'll find him." John tried to sound encouraging as he helped his youngest from the car, but all he could muster was tired frustration.

"Where?" Sam barked, his anger and frustration clearly evident as he spoke. "That was the last place on the list."

"Look, we still have time, we'll find him. We can't give up."

"It's just... I mean... I saw him, touched him, but that just doesn't seem to matter. I just thought that, for once, these damn visions would help."

"You have helped, Sam. If it wasn't for you we wouldn't have any idea where to look. At least now, we have something."

"Yeah, a whole lotta good that's doing." Sam mumbled as he unlocked the door, pushing against it and into the room.

Both men froze as the icy air assaulted their senses. Sam quickly flicked on the light, his breath clearly visible in the cold air, sharp eyes falling on the room's solitary occupant. There before them, sitting on the bed without a care in the world was Marci Trater.

Her smile was sick and hungry, pure white eyes studying every inch of Sam as though he were some lost treasure. Sam knew the instant he saw her that there was more before him than just Marci Trater, more in the room than just the petite girl. The ghost of Martin Trater was there as well, inside her, controlling her. He could tell in the way she sat, the way she carried herself, as well as the freezing temperature of the once comfortable motel. There was a spirit there before him, of that he was positive.

He suddenly fell back, his headache spiking as the girl before him smiled wider, her eyes shinning in the artificial light. He leaned his tall frame against the door jam, trying to breath past the pain, knowing that the other Trater girl was still with Dean, still hurting him, still tormenting him. And he instantly wished that he had listened to his brother, that he had not taken this hunt on. He just had an overwhelming feeling that there was more here than a simple ghost hunt, and that thought chilled him to the bone.

"Where's my son?" His father's voice helped pull the young hunter from the quagmire that was his mind, helped anchor him to the world much the same way Dean's voice had on many other occasions. But he still couldn't completely push past the pain, couldn't fight off the mind numbing cold, and so he let his father speak.

"Don't worry." Marci began, though the voice that left the young girl's mouth was definitely that of her father. "He's still alive."

"Where is he?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out. I thought you were a hunter?"

"I'm not in the mood for games." John snarled, approaching the girl, his eyes murderous. But Marci just smiled, her body not even twitching as the angered Winchester stalked her. She was playing with him, pure and simple.

"Careful, John. If you hurt me, you may never find your little boy."

"What do you want?" Sam finally found his voice, his head still throbbing. He had to find Dean, had to figure out what this family wanted with him, what they wanted with all three of them. He knew that this was more than just the sacrifice, that it was something bigger than what he and his brother had come here for, but between his father returning, and the psychic link that he and Dean now had, his mind was too flooded to think straight.

"To have a little fun." She smiled, looking over him once more. "It isn't often that we get to take down an honest to goodness hunter. Besides, your brother is just so edible, it would be a shame to not have a little fun with him first."

"You leave him alone!" Sam voice was hard and sharp, his father having to hold onto him as he tried to move forward.

"Make me."

"Why are you here?" John asked, pulling Sam back by the shoulders.

"I'm here to level the playing field a little. You should have seen his face." She sneered, turning to Sam. "You were right there, mere feet away from him and you didn't know. He was devastated by the way."

"Shut the hell up." The television exploded as Sam tried to push past his father's hold, his anger growing with each passing moment. But the monstrosity before him just continued to laugh, her face contourting into a sickly innocent smile.

"Temper, temper. You don't want to make me mad."

"Oh yeah, and why not?"

"Because, I still have over a day to play with your brother. You wouldn't want me to take out my anger on him, now would you?"

"Why'd you take him early, and why from here?" John asked, still trying to restrain Sam, a lamp exploding behind him.

"To see if you could find him. And, like I said, you were so close."

"Where is he?"

"That's the only clue you're going to get from me, John." She smiled one last, hideous smile before the room was filled with a pure and blinding light, both Sam and John having to shield their eyes from the intensity of it. And by the time it dissipated, Marci was gone, along with any other information they could have garnered about Dean.

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Dean tried again to stop the shaking, his tired body doubled over from the constant cold. The sisters had told him that his family was close, but he didn't buy that for a second, if they were there, they would have found him. He had faith in his father and brother, knew they would do anything in their power to find and save him, and no one would ever be able to tell him different. He shivered again, as the icy air assaulted him once more, his bare arms numb and pale, his thin T-shirt doing little against the cold.

There was only a little more than a day left before he or Sammy would be sacrificed to save this twisted family, and he was beginning to feel the pinch of time. Three days ago, he was sure Sam and John would be there within the hour, two days ago he was positive that they would break down the door at any moment, and a few hours ago he could have sworn that he heard them. But now, well now he wished he had his phone so he could tell them to get their asses in gear. He was cold, hungry, thirsty, tired and, not that he would ever admit it, he was afraid.

His only comfort, his only strength had come in the form of a twisted hallucination, his lonely mind showing him just how much he needed his family, just how much he wanted to be back with them. He had to laugh a little at himself, his mind so warped and tired that he had actually believed that his brother was there with him, that he had seen him in the room shortly before one of the sisters had returned. Hell, he had even felt him. But he knew that that was impossible, knew that it was only his mind's way of helping him cope, though he was still holding out hope that his mind would decide to play tricks on him once more. Any Sam, even a hallucinate one was better than nothing.

He pushed himself as far up the wall as he could when he heard the scraping of the lock, cursing himself for having drank the tainted water. But he had been so thirsty and so hungry. He knew he shouldn't have done it, but he couldn't resist, and he absently thought that the paralyzing poison was better than starving to death.

Mellie moved slowly towards her captive as she entered the room, her eyes large and hungry, her body swaying as she licked her lips. Dean tried to stand, but his legs were still jelly, so instead he scowled, sliding back away from the advancing girl. They had been tormenting him, their hands like ice, sending freezing, electric like pulses throughout his entire body. It was painful and humiliating, and he prayed that this was the time that his father and brother would come bursting though the door. As if reading his mind, she spoke.

"My sister is with you family."

Dean could feel his already cold blood run colder. "Where are they?"

"At the motel. Don't worry, she hasn't harmed them, she just had to set them on the right trail. We were beginning to think that they wouldn't make it here in time."

"So you told them where to go? Oh sister, you don't know what you're getting yourselves into."

She laughed lightly as she straddled him, her eyes boring into his. "Oh." She smiled, running a hand through his hair. "I think we do. And, like I said, she only pointed them in the right direction. After all, we still have till midnight tomorrow, and you are just so delectable, why rush things." She breathed, running her hands over his stomach.

He tried to pull away, tried to push her off of him but what little strength he had was being stolen by her icy touch. "My family's gonna kill you."

"Not if I kill them first." She spoke softly as she kissed his cheek her breath like frost against his ear. "And just think, after we break this curse, you get to be ours, forever."

"I don't belong to anyone."

"My father says that Marci and I can have whatever we want. A reward for having to live such a horrid life. And well, we both want you." She looked him over, longingly, as she ran her hand over his chest.

"Oh great, you're spoiled and psychotic."

She kissed him once more on the neck before drawing away, his eyes closed tight against the pain. "We deserve to be rewarded. It is not our fault we were born to this family."

"And it's not me or Sammy's fault that we were born to ours."

"I'm sorry, Dean." She sighed, running her hand through his hair once more as he slowly opened his eyes. "But, if it is between my family and your's, mine will win."

And with one final kiss she left the room, Dean curling in on himself, trying to fight off both the cold and the lingering feeling that Mellie had left behind. His voice barely more than a whisper, "Right back at you."


	16. Chapter 16

_sorry again for the wait, it's just one family crisis after another on my end, my grandfather is in the hospital. :( when it rains it pours i guess. _

_I want to thank you all again for the great reviews, they really make my day. the end is in sight, let me know what you think of the new chapter. :)_

D: this is still all just for fun.

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 16

The minute Marci Trater vanished from their room Sam threw himself into his research, checking and rechecking every piece of paper he had on every property they had searched. He couldn't believe that he had missed something, couldn't believe that he had been that close to his brother, that he had been that close to ending it all and he had just walked away. Hell, he was supposed to be the psychic one and he couldn't even manage find his brother when he was mere feet away.

The flatware rattled as the youngest Winchester continued to pour over the mounds of data he had managed to collect, his eyes burning as he scoured each and every page, praying to any deity that might be listening to help him figure it out, to help him find his big brother. He knew that, if he lost his brother that night, he wouldn't be able to go on. Everyone always told him how strong he was, always thought that he could bounce back from everything. But the truth of the matter was that, without Dean, Sam had no reason to push forward. After all, he was all he really had left in the world.

"Sam." John began, but Sam just tuned him out once more, just like he had been for the past five hours.

The young hunter just didn't want to face his father, didn't want to see the disappointment in his eyes. He knew he had screwed up, knew he should have called John long before now, should have seen his brother's depression shinning though his usually stoic exterior. But he hadn't. He had been so lost in his own mind, so bogged down by his own fears and failures that he had missed everything that was going on around him, missed his big brother's spiral into darkness.

And the last thing he needed at that moment was to hear his father rag on about his less than acceptable hunting skills. He knew that he should have researched more, knew that there was something about the sisters that didn't fit. But there had been a pattern, one dating back over a hundred years without any sign that it had ever been broken. So really, he shouldn't be blamed for something he couldn't have foreseen happening.

But the thing was that, had the roles been reversed he was sure that Dean would have found him by now, that his brother would never have left him alone, never have let his guard down. No, Sam would not have been taken, of that he was sure, and that simple fact ate away at him more than any other. Dean would have been able to save him, to find him, to make everything as right as he could.

He scrubbed his hands over his forehead, a headache growing once more behind his eyes. The dull throbbing had never really left him, but now it felt as though the single drum that was beating against his brain had grown into an entire percussion section.

"Sammy, you all right?" He could hear his father's voice but it was drifting away from him faster than he could catch it, falling though his hands like grains of sand. He wanted to reach out to the older man, wanted to answer him, but the haze growing before him was making that impossible.

His world slowly began to fall away, John's rough hands barely registering as they griped his shoulders, trying to hold on to him, to pull him back from where ever he was going. But it was no use, Sam was lost to the pain, lost to his mind, and he welcomed it. He could feel the cold seeping into his bones once more and he called out to the chill, reached out into the darkness, embraced the fear.

He knew he was feeling Dean again, knew he was there with him, if not in body than in spirit. He knew it was dangerous, knew he should fight it, but he also knew that he couldn't. This was Dean's last chance, his once chance, and Sam wasn't about to give up on his big brother just to save himself from the pain. No, this was the only way he could help him, the only thing he could do, and he would endure whatever the future had in store if it meant he could get his brother back.

_The darkness that was around him slowly began to lift, his eyes falling once more on his brother's weak and trembling frame. He couldn't stifle the gasp that passed his lips, Dean looking so much weaker, so much colder than he had mere days before. His face was pale, cheeks hollowed out with hunger, chest rising slowly against the pain and fear. _

_Sam could feel his own body breaking as he made his way to his semiconscious brother, Dean's eyes half open and vacant. All he wanted to do was take his brother and run, leaving the pain that seemed to rule their lives in the dust. Neither of them deserved this life, least of all Dean, and Sam wanted nothing more than to save him from the abyss that was slowly swallowing him whole. _

_Dean jolted slightly when Sam rested his hand on his shoulder, the elder Winchester's eyes opening just a bit more as he searched the room, his face riddled with panic. And Sam had to hold back the urge to break something, cursing whatever it was that that twisted family had done to his brother. _

_"Sammy?" His brother's voice was as weak as his body, but to the young hunter it was the greatest sound he had ever heard. And he was terrified that, in just over twenty four hours he may never be able to hear it again. _

_"Yeah, Dean."_

_"You're back."_

_"Oh god, Dean, I'm sorry."_

_"You know how much I wish you were the real Sammy?" Dean looked away as his body was once more wracked by tremors._

_Sam couldn't stop the short, hurt gasp that followed his brother's words, Dean's mind so clouded with hunger and exhaustion that he wasn't making any sense. And suddenly, the younger Winchester's resolved strengthen tenfold._

_"Dean, do you know where you are?"_

_"A small, cold, room."_

_"No, I mean, where?"_

_"Doesn't matter, hallucinations can't help."_

_"Dean, I'm not an hallucination."_

_"Sure, sparky."_

_"Come on, dude, please, we're running out of time. Is there anything that stands out?"_

_"Cold, like ice."_

_"I know it's cold, but please--."_

_"No, like refrigerator cold, in the walls."_

_Sam tried to process what his brother was saying, but his mind was growing hazy as the warmth began to seep slowly back into his body, his father's voice a distant echo but growing stronger. He knew he had to go, knew he had to pull himself together, but he didn't think he could leave his brother. _

_His heart nearly broke when he looked into Dean's eyes, the green orbs clouded over with confusion and pain. And so, Sam tried to pull back, tried harder to anchor himself to the cold room. He was winded when a sudden and near intolerable pain pierced the back of his eyes, a prickling, almost electric like sensation working its way over his cool skin. But still he fought to hold on to his brother, to stay with Dean, to ease his suffering. _

_He stopped everything though, when the reality of what he was doing finally hit home. He could see his brother's breath, the air around him growing colder and colder with each passing minute as Sam's skin continued to crawl, his father's voice falling further and further back into the darkness as a chill took over his body once more. He was literally pulling his own soul from his body, and he was both amazed and terrified. _

_"Dean." Sam began, his fear quickly overshadowing his amazement when he realized the room around him was growing clearer, his father's voice all but gone. He knew something was very wrong, and so, instead of holding on to his brother he used all his strength to anchor himself to his father, to base his soul in the warm motel room, all while speaking to his brother. "I have to go for now."_

_"Sam?"_

_"It's ok. Just stay strong, I promise I'll find you."_

_"Please stay."_

_"I can't, but I'll be back before you know it." And with one last squeeze of his shoulder Sam watched as Dean faded once more into the darkness. _

666666666666666666

John was frantic, his heart racing faster than he knew was healthy, but he didn't care. He repeated the steps of CPR for the ninth time, his mind unable to comprehend what had just happened. One minute he had been trying to calm down his frantic son, trying to pull him away from his mounds of research, and the next, well the next he was watching his skin go pale, holding him as his body went limp and his heart stopped.

He continued to push hard on Sam's still chest, breathing for the boy when he could not, all while fear and frustration tried to claim him. His phone had rang twice, but at that moment he didn't care, all he could focus on was saving his son, saving both his sons. He had gone from joy at finding them alive and whole to utter anguish when both seemed to fall beyond his reach. But John was a Winchester, god damn it, and he wasn't going to let his children go without a fight.

After what felt like hours Sam finally sucked in a long and greedy breath, his tall body arching as his heart beat again, coughs stealing away what little oxygen he had managed to acquire. The senior Winchester closed his damp eyes and thanked god as he pulled his youngest up again his chest, holding his heaving body as he continued to cough.

But if Sam's sudden death had scared John, then what the young man did next downright floored him. From the way he was struggling in his father's arms, the way he was jabbering on, one would have thought that the kid had only been down for a nap, not meeting his maker. The young hunter shrugged off his hold and stood, his body still looking like a walking corpse, but the soul inside seemed undamaged.

His skin was still ghostly pale, however, his lips tinted a slight blue, brown eyes dull and clouded, and it was obvious to the seasoned hunter that something was still very, very wrong. After all, not even a full mintue before the twenty-four year old had been dead.

"Jesus Christ, Sammy, would you sit down."

"No." Sam coughed, sifting through his research like the past few minutes hadn't happened. "I think I have an idea about where to look."

"How?"

"I just saw, Dean."

"Sam! Sit down, please."

"Dad, I'm fine."

"Fine! Fine! You were just dead for three minutes!"

"What?"

"No heartbeat, no pulse." John's voice cracked as he looked over his son, whatever color was left in Sam's cheeks draining with the revelation. "Oh god, Sammy... I thought you were gone."

"I was with, Dean."

"What the hell did you do?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? Sam, people don't just drop dead for no reason."

"I needed to stay with him, I did what I had to."

"You nearly killed yourself!"

"He needed me."

"What good are you gonna be to him dead?"

"I didn't know that would happen, all right. Besides, I think I know where he is."

"Sam, you need to rest."

"Not until we get Dean back."

"No, now, that's an order! I can't lose you both."

"If we don't get Dean back then you will. I can't let him die, dad. I won't. You have to understand; it's both of us or neither."

"Sammy."

"I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."

John felt like his heart had just been ripped out of his chest, his blood running though his veins like ice. He knew his boys were close, knew they had a bond that was unlike any he had ever seen, but until that moment he had never really understood it. When they said they would die for each other, they meant it. And he knew, then and there, that Sam was right, that it was both or neither, and that terrified him. His boys were all he had in the world, and he knew he wouldn't be able to survive loosing them.

"What did he tell you?"

"He said the room felt like a fridge"

"And?"

"Well, he meant like an actually fridge, not just that he was cold. Look, three of the properties we looked at were old canneries or meat packing plants."

"Subbasements."

"Yeah, a cold place to keep the meat or fish before processing. That's how we could have been feet away without knowing it. We were literally right above him."

6666666666666666

Dean struggled to stay awake, his stomach muscles tightening as he laid there. They had brought him more food and water but he had thrown it out, knowing that they had drugged it again. It had been hours since he had seen 'Hallucination Sam' and he knew that his time was quickly running out. He looked at his watch again, the illuminated numbers mocking him. 9:25 p.m.. Yup, he was definitely running out of time.

He pushed himself back up against the wall when he heard the key turning in the lock once more, thanking the stars above that his legs had finally decided to start working again. They were weak, and he was sure that a toddler would look steadier, but at least he could walk, and at the moment that was all that mattered to him. He knew it wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

Mellie Trater walked slowly into the room, her pale face plastered once more with a sickening grin. She wore what Dean could only guess was some kind of ceremonial robe, the think fabric hanging off her wafer thin body making her look far younger than she actually was. She held a large, ornate knife in her hand, the metal glistening in the pale light, her eyes staring so deeply into Dean's that he felt violated.

He continued to lean against the wall, acting as though he couldn't move his body. He watched with trepidation as she straddled him, his body twitching slightly at the cold that she brought with her. She ran her slender hand through his hair once again, her smile hungry and longing, before she leaned over, whispering lightly in his ear.

"It's time."

"Oh, yes, it is." Dean smiled back before head-butting her, sending the small girl careening to the floor.

She let out a strangled yell as she hit the hard stone floor, the knife sliding far across the room. Dean gained his footing as fast as his injured body would allow, a well placed kick sending Mellie into unconscious oblivion. He leaned against the wall for several seconds, trying to catch his breath in the icy air, before moving towards the knife.

The weapon felt heavy in his weak hand, his vision blurring slightly as he moved out of the room, the long hallway before him more like a maze than he thought. He staggered down the corridor, praying that his vision and equilibrium would return before either of the sisters did. In reality he knew that he was in no condition to fight anyone, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying. He had to hold them off, had to stay alive for two and a half more hours and the curse would be broken.

_dun, dun, dunnnnn. next chapter is the big showdown. _


	17. Chapter 17

_woot! woot! i am so proud of this chapter! it is a little longer, but it turned out just the way i hoped it would. once again, thank you all for the wonderful reviews, they are so very much appreciated. thank you all for sticking with the story, only one more chapter left! _

_as always, let me know what you think, i hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as me. _

D: as always, supernatural is the brainchild of others, i am just playing around.

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 17

_10.45 p.m._

Dean cursed as his weak legs gave away once more, sending him careening into the cold stone wall of the tunnel. It was the third such corridor he had been in and he was a little more than frustrated at the absurdly complicated maze he found himself in. What in the world would possess people to build things so god awful confusing? It was like the architects were hell bent on keeping you in their structures as long as possible.

He took a few steadying breaths before pushing off the wall once again, hoping that this was the tunnel that would lead him to freedom. He quickly rethought his plan, however, when the echoing of footsteps reach his ears. They were looking for him, of that he was certain and he was running out of places to hide. It was the third such incident, the injured hunter avoiding the Traters by mere moments, and he was getting tired of it.

He rounded the corner only to find himself in yet another long and twisting hall, his heart sinking as he stared off into the darkness. '_An hour and fifteen minutes.'_ He told himself over and over again. He only had to hold them off for a little more than an hour and he would be safe. Well, maybe not safe, but he wouldn't be sacrificed either.

He smiled to himself as he ventured down the hallway, the ill-fated Indiana hunt coming back to him. He really did like to cut the whole 'avoiding sacrifice' thing rather close. A soft laughter filled his ears as he stumbled again, his heart racing as the air around him grew colder. Just a little over an hour, he only had to stay hidden for a little over an hour.

He breathed past the pain and the cold, moving forward again as the sicken laughter grew. He quickly turned another corner, cursing when he found himself in a large room instead of another corridor. It was a trap, he knew that the minute he saw the large stone alter. He had been herded to the one place he had been trying to avoid.

"You didn't really think you'd be able to leave, did you?" Marci's sweet yet twisted voice rose up behind him, the girl moving slowly from the shadows, her body clad in the same type of robe her sister had been wearing.

Dean unconsciously backed further into the room when she spoke, an icy chill running up and down his arms. He tightened his grip on the heavy knife, not yet ready to admit just how screwed he really was. After all, he had taken out Mellie, how hard could it be to take down her sister?

As if ready his mind Marci smiled, a white mist slowly growing around her petite frame. She breathed in deep, as though welcoming a summer breeze, the cold and shapeless form snaking its way into her mouth and nose. Dean stared on in horror as he watched the spirit of Martin Trater take up residence in his eldest child. The girl's once human eyes turning a ghastly white as she set her gaze upon the trapped hunter.

"Well that's not really fair." Dean breathed, Martin's low and hollow laugh billowing from the lungs of his child.

"Life isn't fair."

"Yeah, so I've gathered."

"I am a father, Dean."

"Ok?"

"When my girls were born I cried, because I knew what their lives would become. I knew what they were being born to. But you know what, I am proud of them."

"They're murders, what's there to be proud of?" Dean knew in an instant that he should have kept his mouth shut, the ghost of Martin Trater propelling his daughter's body towards Dean with such force that his head bounced painfully off the cold stone floor, darkness threatening his vision.

The once frail girl leaned over him like a linebacker, her eyes glowing in the dim light, her thin hands wrapped tightly around his throat. He blinked several times, trying with all his might to keep the world in focus, to keep his mind away from the abyss that was threatening to consume it. Her hands tightened slowly around his neck, his lungs screaming for air as she sat on his chest.

He could feel his body start to tingle, his eyes seeing nothing but darkness even though he knew they were still open. It was the end, he could feel it, his body slowly giving in no matter how hard his soul fought to stay. His family needed him, Sam needed him, but at that moment there was nothing the oxygen starved hunter could do about it. He was dying, and he didn't have the strength to stop it.

Just as unconsciousness reached out to claim him, he felt the small, yet still strong hands release, his lungs pulling in air even as the rest of his body continued to shut down. The last thing he heard before the darkness claimed him, was Martin's hollow voice.

"Not yet, Dean."

66666666666666

_11.00 p.m._

Sam fell forward into the mud, his trembling hands twisting through his hair, sure that his brain was mere seconds away from exploding. He could feel Dean trying to fight, and he could also feel him loosing. Whatever was happening to his brother, it was killing him, killing both of them. But, just as he was sure he too was taking his last breath, blood running freely from his nose, he felt the crushing pressure lift, leaving him sick and trembling on the cold earth.

It took his eyes several minutes to regain their focus, his brown orbs falling on the worried face of his father. John, too, was kneeling in the mud, his two calloused hands holding onto Sam's shoulders as though their very lives depended on it. The youngest Winchester couldn't help but see the pain reflected in the older man's eyes, couldn't help but feel the fear and agony rolling off of him in waves. John was loosing his children and, for once, he couldn't just shoot their tormentor and be done with it.

"I'm ok." He spoke weakly as he struggled to his feet, his father still holding him like a long lost treasure. He knew he should fight the connection he had with his brother, hell he was pretty sure that he could, too, but something in him wouldn't let him.

He considered it his reimbursement for every atrocity their family had suffered. For the demon, for his mother and Jess, for the Asura, and for Joshua. He had been given his powers against his will, had been forced to watch his family suffer as others tried to map out their destinies. And, until now, he had been nearly powerless to stop it.

But suddenly, finally, he could use his gift, his curse, to their advantage, to find Dean. And really, he didn't care if it killed him. He had meant what he said to his father, every word of it. There was no Sam, and no Dean. It was Sam _and_ Dean, or nothing at all. After all, that's the way it had been for twenty four years, and nothing in heaven or hell was going to change that now.

"Do you think you can break the bond like before?"

"No."

"Have you even tried?"

"Of course I've tried, I'm not stupid." Sam lied, shrugging out of his father's grasp and moving back towards the building. If John suspected anything he was wise enough not to say, merely following his youngest up the long, muddy trail.

As their luck would have it, this was the last of the three properties they had decided to revisit, the other two nothing but sad and frustrating disappointments. They had started out with so much time, days, but now they were down to a single, solitary hour. Sam quickened his pace, looking down at his watch when he finally reached the door.

_11.06 p.m._

He cursed, pulling open the door and running inside, the minutes ticking by like a bomb. Fifty-four minutes. He only had fifty-four minutes to find his brother, if his brother was even there. He knew, deep in his heart, that there was a very real possibility that he was wrong again, that Dean was not in that building. And he knew that there was no time to search anywhere else. In fifty-four, no make that fifty-three minutes, Dean would be dead.

The two Winchesters made it quickly and quietly to the freezing subbasement of the cannery, Sam's heart beating fast. It looked familiar, they could be right, they could still be in time.

"Damn." Sam could feel whatever hope he had found quickly drain away with his father's curse. "This place is huge, Sammy."

"I know, but I think he's here. It looks right."

"We're gonna have to split up. We're looking for a small room, right?"

"No, we've only got fifty-two minutes, they would have moved him by now."

"To where?"

"I don't really know. There weren't any windows or anything, and the walls were covered in ice."

"Well, this building is right on the shores of Shagawa Lake, so the room's probably closer to the lake side of the building."

"Alight, I'll go left, you go right."

"And Sammy. Control your powers, you're no good to either of us dead."

"But I can use them to find him."

"We can use our skills, too. I mean it Sam, you and your brother are both getting out of here in one piece."

Sam smiled and nodded, his father's strength flowing into him. He could do this, he could find his brother. After all, he still had forty-nine minutes.

66666666666666

_11.22 p.m._

Sam swept his light back an forth across the frozen walls, his eyes sharp, ears trained. The sound of a knife being sharpened had been haunting him for the last few minutes, echoing to him from every corner of the vast subbasements. They were playing with him, he knew it, but that still didn't make his heart beat any slower.

He could feel his body numbing with each slow swipe of the knife, each soft scrap beating against him like a hammer. They were herding him, dragging him towards some kind of trap, he could feel it in his bones. But he also knew that they were leading him to the very room his brother was in. He didn't know how it was happening, and he didn't care, all he knew was that, the closer he got to the room, the stronger Dean's presence became. It was like a beacon calling out to him, reaching through the darkness, pulling him forward.

Yes, he knew it was a trap, but he also knew that it was his brother's only hope, and that outweighed everything.

6666666666666

_11.38_ _p.m._

John closed his eyes in silent prayer after looking at his watch, asking someone, anyone to help him save his children. Each minute slipped away from him like water from his hands, his sons' lives growing fainter and fainter as time crawled on. He couldn't believe that he had let this happen, that he had become such a stranger in his children's lives that he hadn't known about everything they had endured.

Sammy was possessed for five months, for god's sake, how in the world had he missed that. And then, when it came time to pick up the pieces, came time to help his sons recover, they had hidden from him, cut him out of their lives when they should have needed him most. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, and John knew that it was entirely his fault.

"It's hard being a parent. Isn't it, John?" The voice was cold and condescending, chilling the seasoned hunter while also filling him with rage. He spun around slowly, shotgun raised, eyes hard as stone. He wouldn't lose them, not now, not ever.

The ghost of Martin Trater continued. "You should be proud of your boys, they're strong. Like my girls."

"My children are nothing like yours."

"Really?"

"Melinda and Marci kill."

"So do Sam and Dean."

"It's not the same."

"Oh, but it is. After all, what gives you the right to decide what lives and what dies?"

"You're hurting innocent people."

"I would stop in a heart beat if I could. I did not choose this life, I was born to it, just like my girls. It was not our mistake, but we are still punished for it all the same."

"My boys didn't choose this life either."

"But you see, John. Your Sam is strong, stronger than anything I have ever seen before. His soul can end this, can stop all the killing."

"No!"

"It's one life."

"It's my son's life."

"But it can save so many others."

"Yeah well, stopping your girls can accomplish the same thing."

"They'll die if there is no sacrifice tonight."

"And they'll die if there is a sacrifice tonight. I can tell you right now, if your family hurts either of my boys, there's no places on earth, heaven or hell where you can hide." And with that John fired the shotgun, Martin Trater's spirit shattering with his scream. He stole another glance at his watch before cursing.

_11.47 p.m._

It had been a diversion, and now, he only had thirteen minutes left.

666666666666

_11.49 p.m._

Sam's heart leapt into his throat when he turned the corner, finding himself in a large room rather than another corridor. He knew that room, remembered it as the place Megan Marshal had taken her final, terror filled breath. The walls were still covered in ice, the room still lit only by candle. The only glaring difference was that, instead of Megan's body laid out on the alter, it was Dean's.

The younger hunter scanned the room as quickly as he could, pistol at the ready, locked and loaded with the safety off. He wouldn't outright kill them, but if either of the sisters made a move towards his brother, he wouldn't hesitate to use deadly force. After all, he wasn't a murderer, but that didn't mean he was a push over either, and his brother came first, always.

Sensing no immediate danger Sam ran to the alter, afraid that the girls had decided to take his brother's life early. He dropped the flashlight on the table, his shaky fingers searching for a pulse. He nearly cried out in relief when he felt the steady beat, his brother's eyes slowly opening to meet his gaze.

"It's about time. What's with you and the long rescues?" Dean's voice was hoarse and weak, but it was the sweetest sound Sam had ever heard.

"I told you before, I like dramatic suspense." Sam smiled, helping in brother sit up. He looked like death warmed over, but at that moment the youngest Winchester couldn't have cared less. He had done it, he had found him with eight minutes to spare.

"SAM!!" Both brothers' heads snapped up when they heard their father's winded voice, the echo of his frantic footfalls growing closer with each second.

Sam didn't waste any time. He quickly grabbed Dean's arm, throwing it over his shoulder and hoisting the older man to his feet, quietly apologizing for the agony he was causing as he drug the injured man across the room.

_11.57 p.m.._

They had to get out of there, there was no other option. Sam knew it was a trap, and he knew that it was about to be sprung. But in his haste he wasn't watching where they were going, didn't see the hidden door slowly slide open behind him. No, all he knew was that he had Dean, and he had three minutes to spare.

Hell, he didn't even hear the sound of the gun cocking, or the bullet firing until he felt Dean push him away. He didn't register any of what was happening until he saw his brother fall bonelessly to the floor, until he heard his father's scream, until he watched his sibling's blood drain into the lines of the pentagram, Dean laying as cold as death at it's point.

And at that moment, in that instant, he felt himself snap.

666666666666

_11.58 p.m._

John felt his entire world end, his voice screaming before his brain even registered the command. Everything was happening in slow motion, each action beating in time with he heart.

Beat.

Dean pushed Sam out of danger as the pistol fired.

Beat

Dean's head jerking back as he fell lifelessly to the floor, right at the top most point of the pentagram.

Beat.

His eldest's blood began to flow.

Beat.

The room filled with a fierce and unnatural wind, the Trater girls cowering as Sam rose slowly to his feet, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

Beat.

The room began to shake, the earth beneath them churning and moving as a shadow made its way across the floor, made its way towards his sons.

Beat.

Dean continued to bleed, Sam standing over him like a man possessed.

The look in his young son's eyes broke John from his daze like shattering glass, his body shaking as the winds around the room grew to an unimaginable gale, the shadow creeping ever closer. It was the curse, the recipient of Dean's soul, coming to claim its prize, and John would be damned if he let that happen.

He tried to run towards his boys, knowing that he had to pull Dean away from the pentagram before the shadow reached him. The eldest Winchester only managed two steps, however, before he was thrown back by the sheer force of the wind, the sheer strength of Sam's bond of protection.

The young hunter had snapped, whatever had been holding back his power gone, obliterated when Dean was hit. But John could see the rise of his eldest son's chest, knew that he was still alive, still fighting, still trying. _Dead or dying_. The words floated through his mind like fire. Whatever the Traters had been sacrificing Dean to would still take him, dead or dying. No, the only way to stop it was to get Dean off of the pentagram.

He tried to push forward again, but Sam was making it impossible. Rather, the power in Sam was making it impossible. He knew that, in his young son's confused and fading mind, all he could do was protect his brother, keep him safe. He had no idea that he was actually putting him in more danger. The shadow seemed un-perturbed by the wind, however, its inky shape now mere inches from Sam's feet.

_11.59.02 p.m._

Seconds, John only had seconds.

"Sammy. You gotta listen to me. You gotta get Dean off the pentagram." But his desperate pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears as the shadow moved forward. John could see the resolve in Sam's eyes, could see his desire to move, to help, to pull Dean away, but he seemed to be trapped in his own body, a prisoner of his own power.

"Sammy, you gotta fight it, you gotta help, Dean."

_11.59.32_ _p.m._

"Damn it, Sammy!! Dean?"

_11.59.44_ _p.m._

"Please, Sammy, snap out of it!"

_11.59.53 p.m._

"NO!" John screamed, tears filling his eyes. He had lost. It seven seconds his child would be gone. He was so lost, so broken that he didn't see Dean's arm move, didn't see him reach out to Sam, wrapping a shaky hand around his brother's ankle. No, all John could see was the shadow as it snaked around Sam's feet, reaching out for his bleeding son.

_12.00 am_


	18. Chapter 18

_well, here it is, the end. this is not only the final chapter of this story, but it is the final chapter of my 'Shadow Stalker' trilogy. I had a blast, and I am glad that you have all enjoyed these three stories. thank you all so much for all the encouragment, and for all the great reviews. it has all really meant alot to me. _

_so, without further ado, the conclusion. _

D: still doing it all for fun.

**WHAT BECOMES OF US**

Chapter 18

John knelt, broken on the floor, forehead pressed against the cold stone beneath him, unrestrained tears running down his face. He had lost him, his child, his first born, his Dean. He had been so close, mere feet away, but he was unable to do anything as the seconds slipped away from him, his heart shattering as his watch reached midnight. He had tried so hard to do right by his boys, had tried so hard to keep them safe. But, in the end, he was forced to watch helplessly as a shadow stole Dean's soul, was forced to watch while Sammy's powers blocked him from his children. And he knew that there was no picking up the pieces this time.

Sam was right, it was both or neither, and it always had been. They were a team, the Winchester brothers, and there was no changing that. Even when Sam was at school, they were always spoken of together. Whether a fellow hunter asked after his _boys_, or referred to Dean was one of John's _boys_, it was always boys, always plural. But now, well, now, it was just one, just Sammy, the glue that had once held together their small family stolen away in a cold dark basement.

He took a couple deep breaths before pushing himself back on his legs, needing to keep it together, needing to be there for Sam. His world was still moving in slow motion as he crossed the short distance to his two children, his soul crumbling more and more as he took in the scene before him.

Sam was kneeling, Dean on the ground before him. The young hunter looked as though he were in some kind of trance, his body shaking as he ran his blood covered hands over his brother's head. He wasn't saying anything, and from his distance, John couldn't tell if Sam was really looking at Dean or just staring empty eyed at the body before him. Whichever it was, to the eldest Winchester, it was devastating.

He moved a few steps closer, his body trying to push forward while his mind was screaming at him to stay back. He didn't want to look into the lifeless eyes of his child, didn't want to have to pick up the pieces he was sure he would never be able to find. No, he wanted to retreat back into his mind, go back in time and be with Mary, be home. But he knew that that would never be possible. Everything he had dreamed of, everything he had fought for was gone, broken, and breaking, and he didn't know how to fix it.

However, as he made it to Sam's side, as he kneeled by his sons, he found that, miraculously, not all was lost. Because there before him, on the cold stone floor was Dean, and he was very much alive.

"Dean?"

"Dad?" His voice was weak, barely more than a breath, but it was there, and that was all the elder hunter needed.

He quickly checked him over, nearly falling over in relief when he saw that the bullet had only crazed the side of Dean's head. She had missed. It was then that he noticed just how close the two were to the lines of the pentagram, mere centimeters. And, even though he knew that the danger had passed, John couldn't help but pull Dean just a little farther back.

"Dad." Dean breathed again, the fear in his voice sending shock waves through his father. "Something's wrong with, Sammy."

It was then that he looked over to his youngest, searching for any signs of injury. But all he was met with were empty eyes, and cold pale skin. He wasn't physically hurt but Dean was right, there was definitely something wrong.

"Sammy?" John asked as he shrugged out of his outer shirt. He quickly pulled Dean up against his chest, trying to give his freezing body a little warmth as he pressed the cloth to his wound, the blood flow thankfully lessening. They needed to get out of there, needed to get Dean warm, but he needed Sam to help. "Sammy?"

"I almost killed him." John had to lean in to hear him, Sam's voice so low that, at first he thought he had imagined it. And, with those four words, his fears were confirmed. Sammy had been awake and aware during his episode, his heart and soul held prisoner by the power he didn't want. He had known he was putting his brother in danger, and he had also known that he couldn't stop it.

"Yeah, but you didn't. We're all fine, now help me get him to the car."

"I couldn't stop it." Sam continued on as though he hadn't heard a word that his father had spoke. "I heard you yelling, but I couldn't stop it."

"You obviously could because you did." Dean answered weakly, his eyes sliding closed.

"Sam, listen to me." John began, shifting Dean's semiconscious form against his chest before reaching out and gripping his youngest's shoulder. "Almost doesn't matter, what could have happened doesn't matter. If it wasn't for you, we never would have found him in the first place. And I promise, we'll get your powers under control."

John smiled as Sam looked up into his eyes, his brown orbs shinning with both fear and near failure. Yes, it had been close, that was something John would never deny. And yes, had Dean not woken, had he not broken the trance his brother was in, he would be gone. But, it had happened, and he couldn't change it, couldn't take the fear away. All he could do, all he could ever do was keep them safe, make sure they saw the sunrise, make sure they saw their next birthday. It was not the life he wanted for them by any means, but it was the life they had and, in the end, that was better than nothing.

"Now, can you help we get your brother up? I wanna get him back to the motel and warmed up before I check his head."

"Concussion?" Sam asked, his voice a little stronger as he helped pull a dazed and shaky Dean to his feet.

"Most likely, but I wanna make sure the bullet didn't do any permanent damage. Good thing your brother's got a such a hard head."

"Hey, I heard that." Dean mumbled, staggering a bit while he tried to walk, unaided down the hall. John and Sam merely shared a look before grabbing the stubborn, yet still injured hunter by the elbows before making their way slowly back out of the freezing catacombs of the abandoned cannery.

66666666666666

_5.36 am_

It had taken several hours to get back to the motel. The last few days of their lives had bee like a living hell, everything falling down around them like boulders. And hell, if Sam was being honest, it hadn't just been the last few days. No, it had been months now. It had been ever since Joshua had betrayed them, had offered them up the Asura to ensure his own safety. Ever since the demon had taken him over, injuring his already disabled brother and forcing him to chose who's life was more valuable. It had been before the ill-fated Tulpa, before the Hell Hounds, before running from their father. It had been before all of that.

The truth of the matter was, that they had been falling apart since they first tried to kill the Yellow Eyed Demon, since they first learned that their victory may never come. It had been since Dean was nearly ripped to shreds, since their lives had almost ended in a car crash, since Sam had realized that he was a puppet in the games of others. It had been since he learned that there would be no normal for him, no apple pie life.

The sad truth of the matter was, that the Winchesters had been falling apart for well over a year now, running from things that only seemed to grow faster. It was like trying to play chick with a tank, and they were being crushed. And now, added to it all, was the fact that he had somehow managed to suck the powers out of the Asura, the same power that had almost killed not only him, but his brother.

He had literally pulled his own soul from his body just to be with Dean for a few more minutes. And then, when he thought the older man had died, when he thought his brother was gone, that power was unleashed. And to say that it scared him was putting in mildly. Sam didn't want to be supernatural, didn't want to have powers. All he wanted to do was be Sam, be the man that had loved Jess, that had found acceptance in the halls of Stanford.

But, ever since his brother broke into his apartment that fateful night, fate, destiny, heaven and hell were all trying to change him, all trying to erase Sammy, to replace him with some demonic lightning rod. And he wasn't sure how much longer he could run.

He was drug back from his thoughts by his father's gruff and frustrated voice, his cell phone pressed firmly to his ear. Sam couldn't help but smile, his father having been on the phone with Missouri for the last hour. When they had returned to the room John had twelve voice messages, and by the time he had finished tending to Dean, the number was up the twenty-two.

She had felt the whole thing, felt the fear, felt the pain, felt his death, and felt the curse's shadow. And all while being unable to reach them. She was furious, irate, and beyond grateful that they had all somehow made it out in one very banged up piece.

He had spoken with her when she first called, his usually strong and stoic father afraid to answer the livid psychic's call. Something Sam was sure neither of them would let him live down. He was glad to talk to her though, glad to have someone that could help him understand, help him come to terms with his life. He had gone from interviewing for law school to channeling the powers of an Asura in less than three years, and he was afraid of what may lay ahead.

But Missouri's words were both insightful and calming, her sweet voice a welcome sound. She knew he was hurting, knew he was afraid, and she told him nothing but the truth. He and Dean were linked and, as far as Missouri knew, there was no way to change that. What they were now, what they had become was what they would always be. Yes, it was dangerous to both of them, but it was something they would have to live with. And, until she had spoken again, all his fears were confirmed.

_"So we are different?"_

_"No Sam, you're the same wonderful boys you were before this whole mess started. Just a little closer. This demon did nothing to your souls, nothing to your personalities. Yes, you share a deeper bond now than you did before, but it is not something born of evil. You and your brother, you're good, and the fact that this was the result of a demon does not change that fact. You're the same boys now that you were when you showed up on my doorstep, and there's no power on this earth that can change that."_

"Finally." John sighed, closing his phone and dropping down onto Dean's bed, as the hunter began to stir.

Dean had been in and out of it ever since they had left the cannery. Between blood loss, a concussion, mild hypothermia, and mal nourishment, Dean had been put through the ringer. But, as the hours wore on, he grew more and more lucid until finally, his eyes opened, full and awake.

"Hey, Slugger, how you feeling?"

"Ok, I guess. Hungry."

"I got some soup ready."

"Trade you for a burger."

"Tomorrow, right now, it's soup."

"Did you make it." Dean asked, eyeing his father suspiciously. Sam tried to hide his smile, but in the end he couldn't help but laugh, his father's cooking always a sore point.

"Sammy, did actually."

"Ok, then."

John just smiled and shook his head, his sons alive and whole and still themselves. He cleared his throat as he walked into the kitchen, Sam and Dean's snickers fading instantly.

"Uh, Sammy?"

"Yeah, Dad?"

"Could you give your brother and me a moment, please?"

Sam's eyes quickly met Dean's, the memory of their fight quickly flooding his mind. It seemed like a lifetime ago that their father had found them, nearly beating down the door in his angry tirade. And, while Dean still seemed a little more than terrified at being alone with their father, something in Sam knew that that fight was the last thing on John's mind.

"Sure, I'll just be outside."

Sam closed the door behind him with a soft click, his family's voices echoing to him through the paper thin door.

_"Dad, I'm sorry."_

_"You're not the one that should be apologizing, Dean. I screwed up."_

_"I was the one that got jumped by a 5'2" girl."_

_"That's not what I meant. I should have made sure the Asura was gone. I should have checked, Sammy. You shouldn't have had to deal with that on your own."_

_"It's ok, really."_

_"No, Dean, it isn't. I'm your father, and I haven't acted like it in a long time. I should have been there for you back then, before you shattered your knee, before Joshua trapped you. I should have stopped the Yellow Eyed Demon from hurting you. There's so much I should have done. _

_"But I didn't, and you were the one that had to pay the price. And I'm sorry, Dean."_

_"Dad--."_

_"You don't have to say anything. It's not ok, and it never will be. But the only thing I can do is be better now. Back in that basement, I swear, I thought I lost you. And I wouldn't be able to go on if that had happened. To you or your brother. You shouldn't feel like you have to hide from me, Dean."_

_"But I screwed up."_

_"No. No, you saved this family. If it wasn't for you, we would have all been dead years ago. I'm proud of you, Dean. And I'm sorry if I'm not very good at showing it."_

Sam leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes as they continued, their voices washing over him, his tired body sinking slowly to the ground. They were the Winchesters, battered and bruised but still standing, still together. Sam was still a brother, still a son, still himself, no matter what the demonic forces of the world had tried to do to change it. He still had his aloof father, and sarcastic brother, and, at that moment, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Yes, they still lived their lives balanced on a knife's edge, and yes, the darkness that plagued them would always be just beyond the door. But, at that moment, in a cheap motel on a dusty road, none of that mattered.

Sam opened his eyes, staring long and deep into the orange and purple sky, listening again to the voices of his family. Knowing that, for that one moment, that one instant of time, the Winchesters were safe, happy and amazingly whole.


End file.
